#get this urge whenever i make a mistake or someone's unhappy with me and my behaviour etc.

[saiyanandproud]

@viopolis from X

Among human senses, scent was one typically reserved only for androids whose primary function necessitated it. Construction robots of Atlas' time could identify trace elements of troublesome compounds in the air, and warn their human overseers, but that wasn't quite the same. Atlas frowns when he registers the smell of something sweet. Not from distaste, but from puzzlement. It made sense that he could detect smoke, sulfur and-- given the time to commit it into his database -- a small handful of registered scents, but why did Dr. Tenma bother with whatever expensive tech he'd need to install for him to actually smell food? ( He's so caught up in this, he neglects to think all that hard about the burning part. ) Questions for later. His eyes zip up just in time to catch Mariko's blush. He smiles, like he'd just won something- and as his apparent prize's slotted into his hands, that smile vanishes. ... It's not fair that the memory a pad of watercolor paper brings surging back from the vault would be an unhappy one. For the span of a second, he's trapped in an extravagant den, watching canvas go up in flame as the hearth swallows it whole. There's a man twice his size in the hallway he wishes he could tear down. He can't. The joints in Atlas' hands creek as his grip on the set tightens. Not your life, not your problem, he reminds himself in silence. How could he bother sulking over memories that weren't even his with Mariko right there? "This is real thoughtful of you, Mariko," and he means that with all his steel heart, despite the way his voice sliiides... " ... but honestly? I don't care about my memories. The past's in the past; I'd rather use this the way you just said: to paint what matters most." What's that feeling, beneath his chassis? Like there's a tiny spark jittering through the circuitry just below. The corner of his lip twitches-- and through that, he recalls the feeling's name: giddiness. He swerves that quickly into something a little more his style- crooks his smile as he pretends he's about to get sweet, sweet revenge on someone who dared to do all this for a vicious machine like him. I’m about to make you just as red as me.

"... Ever have your portrait drawn, Mariko?"

At first, Mariko's shoulders dropped slightly at Atlas' reply -- was he rejecting her gift? That is until he made a punctualisation about its purpose; there, she was left guessing for a moment, lost staring at Atlas' smirk as she tried to guess (once more) what it could be a prelude to.

What followed made her jaw drop on the spot.

"My... What?"

She blinked, staring at Atlas, wondering if she'd heard right. No, yes, she definitely did. But... A portrait? Of her? What for...?

And then, it finally clicked.

What matters most. A portrait of her.

It felt as if her face litterally caught fire, and yet, she was frozen on the spot, hands still around Atlas' gift as he held it in his grasp. Her head started spinning, her pulse accelerated, until she started to borderline hyperventilate.

What is this feeling? She asked herself, fretting. It was as if a sudden need to run away caught her -- a panic urging her to flee, because that couldn't be true, she wasn't ready for that, someone actually being so invested in her? No, that wasn't possible. It had to be a mistake. She wasn't prepared to receive all of that, so suddenly, she wasn't even sure she really deserved it now that it was possible, not after so many years spent yearning for it...

And yet, at the same time, something from her chest almost pushed her closer to Atlas, with a vehemence she never felt before, violent even. It had nothing to do with the butterflies in her stomach from when Takuma smiled at her during her first year at Rosegold Repairs, it wasn't even comparable to the lightheaded feeling that caught her whenever Jiro used to joke with her. It was abrupt, rough, a craving that boiled in her veins. It finally won her mind, and she threw herself ahead, knocking the gift away from Atlas' hands as she pressed her lips on his, with a roar in her ears and her heart throbbing in her throat.

The sensation she was met with disoriented her. She had only given one other kiss before, not long ago even -- and it had been pleasant against all expectations despite its awkward aftermath. This one instead... It was hard. Cold. Like a wall rising between her heart and what it longed for, a cruel slap in the face reminding her that, once again, she couldn't get what she needed so desperately.

It was so brutal she felt tears rising to her eyes in an instant. She pulled away from Atlas, face now wane and her throat closed in a knot.

"I... Sorry," she stammered, a hand running through her messy bangs, eyes fixed on the watercolors that had fallen the floor. "I don't know what's gotten to me, I'm..."

She took a step back, then another. Now that that burning desire had been so brutally extinguished, the panic from before took over. She turned on her heels and ran away, out of the garage, teeth sinking in her lips still cold from Atlas' touch.

Only once she reached her secret corner in the attic, she let herself fall down and broke into a silent cry, wondering why the Universe had put such target on her back, making her the victim of a cruel irony she had never wished for.

[randomingoftherandomness]

Prompt! WKX is an omega who's been suppressing his heats for years with the help of Aunt Luo. When he leaves the Ghost Valley, his heat comes unexpectedly because of prolonged suppressant use. Alpha!ZZS helps. Smut or not, up to you.

A/N: I see Omega WKX and just like that it’s on like donkey kong 😝 No smut for this one though I may revisit this. I had to take a pause in writing the Smut Dialogue Prompts because I had to work for my Taobao WoH merch money. But keep sending them in!

I place this fic as taking place somewhere on the journey to the Longyue Cabinet.

This fic is longer than I had anticipated...

—

It hits him that he’s out of tea three days into the constant discomfort of aches on the base of his spine, the almost debilitating need to scent Chengling as if he was his young, and the embarrassing urge to bare his neck to the Old Toad Monster whenever they argue. But above all that, the most mortifying thing of all is the distracting awareness of where his Ah Xu was at every given moment and the insanity that rages through him to kneel and submit to him even when the man still looks at him with nothing but a suspicion that makes him want to keen and whine.

Wen Kexing is supposed to be above all this, not just as the Lord of the Ghost Valley, but as someone who is trying to prove to this Alpha that he was the right--

He perishes the thought before it can even finish.

The nondescript brocade pouch is empty save for a few remnant leaves that would barely be enough to tide him through even the first hour of what’s coming next. It’s fine, he tries to reason through the rising panic in his mind that this was missing the mark of ‘fine’ and hitting the bullseye of ‘you’re completely fucked’. This blend is unique to Aunt Luo’s stores and if Ah Xiang was still by his side, she would have a backup pouch for him. As a Beta, she would have no need for it herself.

Unbidden, the memories of the scant few times he had let his Heats run their course comes flooding through him; the pain and ache of being untouched, unfulfilled, the taste of blood and sweat as he rides through the terror of his heart burning through the fever, the fear of that lone door being broken down by some crazed Alpha and being mated against his will. He remembers the rawness of his throat for weeks after, screaming and crying for that boy who balanced a cricket on his head and promised him good food when he could come home with him.

Wen Kexing swallows tightly around the knot of emotions drumming thick in his throat. It’s an old fear and it is the nightmare that he has survived and lived through by the grace of Aunt Luo’s protection. He’d presented early; far too early by the sounds of Aunt Luo’s recollections and the theory was that the trauma of his parent’s deaths coupled with the Mengpo Soup being administered to someone so young, was the cause of things.

“Lao Wen?”

“Hm?” He quickly plasters on a smile, blinking up at his Ah Xu before darting his gaze somewhere over his shoulder instead. This is dangerous. 

He’s sweating through his inner robes and it won’t be long now before his scent draws every Alpha in the 15 mile radius from where they are in the forest. He finds himself simultaneously surprised and disappointed that Ah Xu has barely reacted to his scent when the Old Toad Monster had taken a sniff at him this morning and declared that he was taking Chengling along with that strange child-man off their hands for a few days. 

It’s ridiculous and he reminds himself that he has nothing to fear when Ah Xu has been nothing but courteous this entire time even when knowing from the beginning that he was an Omega with a bloodlust that could fill entire oceans. 

“Lao Wen, are you alright?” Ah Xu asks. Wen Kexing looks at him then; meets his gaze and decides it is all or nothing at this point. Should Ah Xu say no, he won’t press, he won’t push and he won’t beg. His heart will break but that wouldn’t be anything new. 

He has survived worse things than a broken heart.

“I’m going into Heat,” He admits, eyes fixed on Ah Xu, gaze strong and unwavering. “It’s going to be bad because I’ve been on suppressants and I need you to know this.”

Ah Xu remains impassive, quiet and still, before he asks gently, “So what are your plans?”

The words twinge something awful in his chest and he forces himself to keep smiling. “Find an Alpha. Pay for one if I must. The last Heat I went through was horrible and I nearly died. I’m not keen to repeat the experience,” He inhales and finds himself stuttering on the sour scent of... Anger? Jealousy?

Ah Xu’s tells are still things he is learning but even with this shallow pool of knowledge, Wen Kexing can tell that he is displeased. 

His immediate instinct is to go on his knees, wrap his arms around that slender waist and rub his cheek to his belly until that cold, unhappy scent sweetens into something warm again. But he restrains himself, tries to stand his ground even when he can feel the quickening of his heart demanding that he submit, he surrender, he give himself over to his Alpha; to just reach out and touch and kiss and love and be loved--

“Am I not enough?”

The slow enunciation of the syllables breaks through the cacophony in his mind. Wen Kexing thinks he must be dreaming and half convinces himself that this is some Heat wrought dream, and that there is no way that Zhou Zishu would ever--

Careful hands hold him by the cheeks, wrists placed close to the corners of his lips and he can almost taste the way he can be owned and marked and belong to this Alpha. This same Alpha who is looking at him with eyes of liquid gold and is saying, “Lao Wen, please let me share your Heat with you.”

“But you...” He trails off.

“Me?”

“You haven't even reacted to me,” Wen Kexing says a little dumbly, body swaying into the promise of an embrace.

On that, Ah Xu smiles a little wryly. His hands move, trailing fingers southwards to rest right against Wen Kexing’s nape. The heat of his palm, right over where a Bond Mark should be shouldn’t be this thrilling, but the promise that is etched in the heady weight of his gaze is enough to steal a soft whine from the cages of his ribs. 

“It’s the Nails. I’m slowly losing my senses. I can’t smell much anymore,” Ah Xu admits with a gentle press of his fingers to sweat slick skin for the briefest of a moment, before pulling away, huffing with fondness. “Was that what worried you? That I wasn’t reacting to you? I thought I’d held your hands enough times and touched you more than was appropriate. Even Senior Ye could tell.” 

The gentle whining that comes from within him builds into something needy that bellies the spreading damp on his inner clothes. 

“I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to,” Ah Xu says, leaning in to press their cheeks together. When he speaks again, his words come on heated breath that has Wen Kexing spreading his legs, letting him occupy the space between them. “But I can say this. If you spend your Heat with me, I won’t hurt you, I’ll make it so good for you. I promise you won’t remember all the Alphas you’ve shared them with before.”

Wen Kexing bites down on his lip and ducks his eyes. Ah Xu has never been so forward and yet, with just these few sentences, he has turned his entire world axis on its head. “There weren’t ever any other Alphas,” He confesses in a quiet rush. “I...”

“You’ve never...?” Ah Xu’s eyes widen.

“Never. I’ve never trusted anyone enough.”

Ah Xu seems to ponder on this. “And now?”

Wen Kexing closes his eyes, surrendering to the need to press his brow to Ah Xu’s strong shoulder. The need prickles deep in his groin and he knows Ah Xu can feel it even through the folds of his robes. There is no mistaking where this will go and Wen Kexing finds that there is no fear in this desire.

Here was his Alpha, the one who will catch him when he falls. Here is the one he had chosen as a child when the world was bright. Here he is for him to love, to hold, to cherish. 

Beyond any measure of rhyme and reason, Wen Kexing knows that even if this is the only Heat he ever gets to share with him, it will be enough. “You’re it for me,” He says softly, pouring every bit of sincerity and honesty into those words. Even if Ah Xu still suspects him, even if he never loves him the way Wen Kexing has loved him for a lifetime, he has been Zhou Zishu’s Omega from the very beginning.

Whatever Ah Xu finds on his face must be enough, because their lips meet, at first, in an inelegant kiss that was too much teeth that clacked and bump, and then again, in a kiss that was half-laughter and many parts delight.

“Then, let me take care of you,” Ah Xu says, thumb tracking the curve of his jaw, pressing his body close.

Wen Kexing shudders, hands moving to hold him by the waist. 

“Alright.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ TWENTY ONE SECONDS ❜

Headcanon.

with Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes.

Request: As for the request, I am so tired my brain isn't even functioning to give you one. So instead, I'm just nudging you towards our bargain. Post-prison sex with Ez?

BY @ly--canthrope

Warnings: NSFW, smut and feels, the best combination.

Word count: about 1.2k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

It's been a week since EZ came out from prison, passing the days by mostly sleeping and resting after eight long years with a firm schedule of tasks and activities.

You understand him, but you don't understand why he pushes you away anytime you try to go ahead.

Starting to think that maybe he used you to keep clinging to some kind of future out of jail, now he doesn't know how to break up with you after living together.

Anytime that he's not close, you can't help but cry disconsolately.

So you take your own decision.

Keeping the few things you have there into a small suitcase, you don't turn when you hear the door of the trailer getting opened.

“What are you doin'?” Angel asks confused, looking at your stuff over your shoulder.

“Leaving”. You just sob.

“Did my shitty brother… break up with you?”

“Not directly, but it seems what he wants to do, and doesn't know how. So I'm doing it for him”.

“Wait, wait, wait. The hell are you talking 'bout, querida?” Urging you to turn, he is trying to find an explanation.

“He just… pushes me away”.

“He is a prospect, he has to do a lot of shit”.

“Ain't talking about that, Angel. I know he has a job now, but… he… The last time EZ kissed me was two days ago. He doesn't touch me. He… waits for me to be asleep, to come to the bed. And… And… I don't know what I'm doing wrong”.

You can't help but collapsing into a bunch of tears. Angel hugs you tightly, stroking your hair as he tries to comfort you.

“Listen, just… give him some time. It's a big change. He's just… finding the way to deal with his new life, okay? But he really loves you, mami. A lot. You can't fake that shit”.

Ezekiel has heard you two.

But that night, he continues acting as always. Distant and silent.

You pretend that you don't hear him jerking himself off inside the bathroom, in the middle of the night, making you feel worse, insecure and unhappy.

Stepping out of the trailer, you light up a cig in your lips. Now, you know that he's not the problem, but you.

The next day when you come back from work, decided to talk with him, you accidentally listen to a conversation between the Reyes brothers.

“Man… she's a fucking goddess”.

“Thank you for the info, Angel, I ain't fucking blind”.

“Then what's the problem? No offense, but if she was my girlfriend… Jeez, I would be fucking her until my dick fell into pieces”.

“I am the problem”. EZ growls frustrated. “Eight fucking years in prison, without… having more fucking sex than using my fucking hand has broke… something inside me. I mean, I ca—I can't fucking last more than… twenty seconds”.

Silence inside the trailer, while you are freaking out outside.

“Okay, this is the first and the last time I'm gonna talk with you about sex... You should tell her”.

“For what? Angel, no matter how much she loves me, you need sex to make work a relationship. That… bullshit about being together is enough is… just bullshit”.

“Yeah, maybe it is bullshit, but she thinks that you want to break up with her”.

“I know, I… heard you last night… I don't wanna lose her, but… she doesn't deserve a man who can't please her”.

“You don't have to use only your cock. You know it, right, genius?”

“But it's not the fucking same, Angel. She will get tired. Finding someone bett—Fuck, I can't even breath thinking about it”.

That really breaks your heart.

Those words are making you feel devastated, knowing that it's not you.

You hide yourself when they come out of the trailer, starting to think about something.

And you wait awake for him, surprising your boyfriend who wasn't expecting it.

“Isn't too late?” He asks, trying to pretend that he's not nervous.

“I heard you talking with Angel”.

His heart jumps, gulping and putting his gaze away from you. Getting up from the bed, you walk towards him as soon as you discover that he's about to cry, ashamed.

“Zeke, lemme help you. Please…”

“I ca—I can't. I've been trying it… Shit, I've been reco—recording the fucking time”. That confession really melts your heart, leaning forward to kiss every tear on his cheeks. “I'm sorry… I swear that I'm trying… Don't leave me, ple—please… It will… It will work, I promise”.

You couldn't.

So, even if it sounds a little cold, you start to schedule your sexual encounters.

At the beginning, it's just about kisses. You two lie down on his bed, kissing for some minutes, until he cums in your hand.

The first time, he cries and tells you how sorry he is. But you don't care. It's okay for you, because you really want to help him. Not only for you, but for his insecurities that don't let him sleep.

Bit by bit, he feels a little more comfortable with the situation, aware that you're not going to break up with him just because he needs some patience.

After his first ride, being two days out of Santo Padre, EZ feels plenty. Ready to take another step ahead.

He knows how to use his hands with you, how to make you beg for him, how to make you stirr under his touches. He is lying by his right side, with his lips fixed on yours, drinking every gasp you utter. And his thick fingers hitting you. Until, to your surprise, he settles himself between your legs, without breaking the kiss. With a desperate slam, he digs his cock inside you, and you can swear to God that you have never felt this good. His pace is somewhat low, letting you mold your wet pussy around his hardness. Ezekiel's face is sunk in your neck, barely breathing, making the effort as your vocals become a little more loud.

“Oh, fuck, babe…” He mumbles. “You are so fucking warm… shit”.

“I'm… I'm gonna cum, EZ”.

“Fuck… yes, babe…” You can notice the proud tone hidden in his moans, speeding up every move he does rocking his hips.

You're close. Too close. Letting yourself go when you can't handle it no more. With your hands nailed on the back of his head, you can't help but cry out his name. The mix of feelings inside you is indescribable, closing your eyes strongly with a bunch of gasps stuck in your throat.

“Can I… Can I come inside you?” He whispers with a trembling tone of voice.

You don't need to say a single word, catching his lips between yours and surrounding his waist with one leg to push him deeper. Some furious thrusts after, he fills you up with a delighted howl flooding the trailer. The heat is wrapping your bodies, almost sweating while your sleepy tongues try to fight the other.

Hearing him laugh again is the best thing that could ever happen to you, hugging you excited because he finally felt like he was really pleasing you.

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 33

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 12.491

Warnings: feeling everyone is against you, self-hate, cursing, mentioned addiction, mentioned past bullying

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness.   Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks so much to my betas @spootilious​ and @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ for your continuous support and WELCOME TO ALL THE NEW PEOPLE WHO JOINED THE DISCORS SERVER! I am so happy you are all here! Anyone can join: Invitation:https://discord.gg/Y2WNAND

Also I thought I’d get out my stuffy Ko-fi page again since the story is two years old now and eating up huge portions of my life, in case anyone wants to support me. Reblogs and comments are just as welcome, though ;)

Chapter 33

Knowing how awkward Logan had been the first few days of waking up after a sleepover, and fearing an even worse reaction with Patton after falling asleep tangeld around each other, Roman cautiously chose to peek into the silent room the next morning. He was a valiant hero, after all. He would save his partner. 

Upon finding them still asleep - and fully dressed - Roman stormed the room and cheerfully forced himself between them, asking for kisses and breakfast and knowing full well there would have been an awful lot of stuttering and apologizing on both sides without his glittering presence. He grinned smugly as Patton sleepily giggled and snuggled into his arms.

Upon entering the kitchen, Virgil softly asked Patton if he was okay, as he had every morning now that the baker thought about it. Logan on the other hand flushed and tiptoed around him until Patton cornered him. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry.” He apologized once they had a moment to themselves and were able to settle down with some tea and cocoa, respectively, on the couch. Knowing Logan needed to have things explained carefully, he tried to put his stupid emotions into words that would cause as little harm as possible. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong at all, it’s all me! I just got so used to having things go bad every once in a while, when I do something dumb, that I started to expect it. I sometimes – I don’t know - I keep seeing bad things that aren’t there. It’s silly. I’m sorry.” Patton rambled, curling around his warm mug. 

“Your responses are far from silly, Patton. Please do not belittle yourself for your emotions.” Logan responded gently. His voice was deep and warm. He gazed at Patton’s pale, small hands quietly, at the light falling onto his silky curls, at his smooth, lovely face. His chest felt full with longing. The patissier was radiant in the sunlight bathing him, making him look bright and innocent and so brave. Logan could hardly breathe with how much he felt, suddenly. With how much he wanted Patton’s happiness. The urge to make things right was like an entity on its own, pushing at his ribcage, urging him to speak. He selected his words carefully. 

“Something must have caused your worries. It would calm me greatly to understand which behaviors have caused you to respond the way you did so I may prevent them in the future. I truly wish to make you feel safe in this flat. Please support me in my endeavor to understand.”

Patton couldn’t help but feel stupid and guilty as he was confronted with such honest, unjudging support. He swallowed hard. The difference between the image he had made up and the man begging him to be allowed to take care of him couldn’t be more obvious. Logan’s dark eyes were so warm when he looked at him. He wasn’t smiling or complimenting him, or telling him how great he was and promising him gifts and such, but Patton still felt like he mattered more than he ever had. Logan’s attention was entirely focused on him, his tall form angled towards Patton, as if he were everything he cared about. 

He wanted to apologize again and tell the detective that it was all his fault, that he shouldn’t worry. He also knew that Logan had developed a talent for seeing through his excuses. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Patton had told him how to help. 

“It really isn’t your fault, Logan. Please believe me! It’s all in my confused head, you can’t help it when I make things up. And it’s not just you anyway, which shows how much silliness I’m coming up with - you really can’t trust my little head.”

“I do not understand. Did somebody else make you uncomfortable?” Logan asked, straightening in alarm. Patton felt like he had been shoved in the chest. It took him a moment to realize that the fact that Logan had automatically assumed he alone was to blame had hurt. Why was it that they wanted to care for each other so badly and still kept rubbing each other the wrong way? Patton just wanted - he just wanted to give Logan so much. He wanted to touch him in ways that made him smile, not doubt himself.

“Well, it really is all me, when If I’m being really honest!” Patton hastened to remind him. “But I guess it’s really – whenever someone fights or makes loud noises or – or argues about something and gets angry �� and that’s okay of course! It’s all my fault and you are not doing anything wrong, it’s all in my head! But- that just, it just makes me an itty bit anxious, you know? I mean- you probably don’t, being a strong detective and all. I just worry that you guys might get in a fight or that I did something wrong. I do that plenty after all. But like I said, it’s all me being oversensitive, you should just laugh about it and go on with your day. I’m sorry for being a bother!” 

Logan grew very silent after Patton’s explanation. Sightlessly staring at the tea in his hands, he tried to categorize the exchanges of the last weeks in the apartment. He had thought that they were all happy here. There hadn’t been any fights, any dramatic outbreaks or terrible mistakes he needed to fix. Virgil had grown so confident and Roman was happy. The pets were healthy and he had thought… he had thought Patton had everything he wanted. What arguments had upset the gentle man? Roman and him had been getting along as well as always. Virgil hadn’t had any visible adverse reactions to his therapy that he could think of either and he was clearly growing closer to Roman. 

Had he been angry? Had he fought with one of them and hadn’t seen the effect it had on Patton? He just couldn’t understand what his friend was referring to for a long moment. Everything had been going so smoothly between him and the others. What could he have been doing that would be considered aggressive by a victim of abuse, such as the pâtissier?

It dawned to him quite abruptly. He’d been angry indeed. Just this morning he had grabbed Roman and growled at him for being dramatic and causing them stress over his gloves. His irritating partner had been howling about it too. Loudly. He had hardly noticed the sheer amount of noise he was making anymore; or the fact that he, himself, was apparently constantly frustrated with him. He didn’t mean it, after all. 

The realization that Logan was indeed annoyed at one thing or another all the time came as a shock to him. He had been so content. He hadn’t noticed…

It was so natural for him to complain and lecture others, especially Roman, who liked to have his attention. It was part of their dynamic. He liked to grumble and his partner liked to wail and whimper and demand he be treated with admiration and given the pity his various plights deserved. They bickered like siblings because this was what had gotten them close to each other in the beginning of their friendship, when they hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask for friendly cuddles. It was their way. He showed his affection in this manner. Whenever he grabbed Roman, his friend would lean into him or playfully wiggle about, letting him carry his weight. When he wanted to initiate contact, he woefully sighed or whimpered and draped himself over Logan. They shoved and bickered and roughhoused with each other to show their mutual affection and wish for contact. 

Had Patton seen something he had missed? What if he had misinterpreted their interactions all those years? Was Logan actually insulting Roman? Was he unhappy as well? Was he secretly resenting him?

What about Virgil? He’d been so hurt and disappointed by the men he’d trusted. Did he feel threatened? 

Logan felt like a sudden weight pressed on his chest. It hurt so badly he flinched from the sudden rush of agony. He drew a sharp breath, trying to control his twisting features. He was suddenly afraid he would start to cry and be absolutely helpless to stop it. Biting the inside of his cheek hard, he barely managed to place the tea on the table. His hands were shaking. He had to compose himself. Losing control and falling apart in front of Patton would be too much to bear. 

His thoughts kept circling, defying his attempts to force them into order. What had he done? He couldn’t think clearly. His breath hitched. He felt like everyone was looking at him. Like they were talking about him, wishing he was gone. Like they used to in school, like the other children used to, wherever he went. He had thought they had been getting along. He had thought they had liked him – he’d tried so hard to always help with their exercises and tell them about the things he cared about, he had thought that they wanted to hear-  but he’d misread the situation. He just couldn’t understand them. The shock of learning he had been hated by the other students in his class without even knowing, it had felt nothing like the possibility of having forced his family to live with a man that hurt them. 

His mind was racing, churning up more and more scenarios that horrified him. There were so many reasons why they could feel forced to stay with him, to pretend they liked the man that was actually making them miserable. Virgil had nowhere to go. He would have to accept any situation that kept him out of harm’s way or out of prison, and Logan had been the key to his freedom. Roman needed someone to look after him, being all alone in the world without a steady presence, who else would he have turned to, but the man who’d bullied him into living with him? Patton had been pulled out of the steady relationship that had been his life and was now essentially homeless, helpless to go anywhere else, for fear of the man that might be waiting for him, not even able to rent his own place since his finances were still entangled with that man’s. Was it like the last time, where he had been the one that alienated everyone, the one who didn’t understand when he hurt feelings, the one everyone talked about behind his back? Was he suddenly going to be alone again? Before Roman, he had eventually given up. He had isolated himself to protect himself from this feeling, certain he couldn’t bear it a second time. And he had been right. His chest felt like something was breaking. 

He stumbled as he rose, barely seeing what was in front of him through his blurred vision. He couldn’t be looked at anymore. Every look felt like an assault. He needed to hide. 

“I’m sorry. Please- please excuse me. I am so sorry.” He stuttered, shakily wiping his eyes and nearly losing his glasses. He hit his shin on the edge of the coffee table but kept going, feeling his face heat with shame. 

“Logan, wait please! What’s wrong? I’m sorry I upset you, please-” Patton pleaded. He was frightened. Logan had scared him and now he was trying to placate him so he wouldn’t hurt him again- 

This was too much. 

Logan stumbled into the corridor, feeling panic well up in him. There were footsteps behind him, following him. He barely made it to the bedroom and slammed the door behind him too loudly. He hadn’t meant to do that! Every sound he made was too loud, he was doing everything wrong and he hadn’t even noticed. 

He hardly managed to turn the key with his shaking hands, needing the little bit of security it afforded him like the air he breathed. Tears were streaming down his face now. He couldn’t stop remembering Patton’s fear when he had reached out to him in his flat, broken and bleeding. What had he put him through after he’d thought he had rescued him? He’d thought he had finally learned to understand, but everything he believed was wrong again. 

He sank down against the door, covering his ears with his hands so hard the way he squished his glasses against his skull hurt, rocking back and forth in his curled-up position. It was too much. Everything felt overwhelming to him!

There were voices on the other side of the door, loud and rushed. 

 “The fuck happened, man?” Virgil growled. Stress was making his voice rougher than intended. He had seen Logan flee from the room, completely out of it and couldn’t help the tide of protective anger. 

Patton flinched, backing away from the door. His eyes were bright. 

“I- I don’t know! I messed up, I think. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Virgil!” He cried, hugging himself and looking smaller than he had in weeks. 

Fuck. 

Virgil took a deep, calming breath and told himself not to be an asshole for once. 

“It’s okay, Pat. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m, like, really fucking anxious right now, but I’m sure you didn’t do anything wrong. It happens. I’m not mad at you, man. Please, just- Roman, deal with this?” He asked, knowing when he reached his limit with emotional bullshit. His worry for Logan was already too much and seeing Patton hurt was frankly agonizing. It was more than he could bear. Roman would stay calm and be big and gentle and reassuring no matter what was wrong. He was amazing like that – nothing like Logan and him, who were, if he were quite honest, a mess when if came to vulnerable, emotional shit.

“Hey, it’s all good dearest Patton.” Roman crooned at the frazzled baker softly, reaching out to him with hands that were so tender. “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll hug it out? Our brilliant Virgil will fix everything and we fabulous darlings will get ourselves some well-deserved cuddles. Sounds good?” 

Patton didn’t really get a chance to worry about making a decision since the detective was already bundling him up in the warmest embrace, tugging his little body against his bigger one. Roman allowed them a moment to rub his cheek against soft curls and hum a soothing melody. 

Having moved them both back to the couch, he made sure to pull the smaller body between his legs and wrap him all up in his embrace. Keeping up a calming chatter, he rubbed his hands over the slender back and through his hair, hoping to slow his frightened little heart. 

“I’ve got you, sweetest Patton. No one is angry at you. All will be well, I promise. We love you. Take a deep breath for me, okay? Logan will be just fine. We’ll always fix everything together and no one will be hurt or mad. We’re a family, we’ll get over the drama and have cocoa. That’s it.”

His voice was deeper and softer than usual, lacking all of the shrill, loud notes that had recently made Patton’s nerves flutter fearfully. He sounded certain and loving. Squeezing his eyes shut, he listened to his tender words. 

 Virgil pressed his ear against the wood, trying to determine what to do. He couldn’t hear Logan at all and he didn’t want to upset him even more by demanding anything. Should he call Remy and make him talk to the detective? His phone was out here though, and he’d need to get him to open the door first. 

Pushing the emotional mess onto someone else sounded so tempting, but he knew Logan would be ashamed to talk to his old friend like that. Also, he had an idea about what had happened. Patton had grown frightened of- everything, really. He was starting to put it together properly only now that he had seen just how afraid he’d just looked. He guessed the same insecurity he had gone through himself had to be expected. But of course, it would be different for Patton. Virgil had thought Logan was the right one to fix it because- because he had fixed everything for him. He trusted the man so much because he gave him so much more stability and safety than he had ever experienced before. His touch always felt safe to Virgil and he always trusted him to listen and understand, because the way their minds worked was so similar in a way.

He was a fucking idiot. 

Logan was acting like a father to him, platonically loving him and protecting him. His touch was safe. Virgil’s expectations towards him were safe. But to Patton, he was something else. Patton had been abused by the man he’d loved, so the relapse would of course make him project onto Logan most because he was closest to a romantic partner. The baker liked him. Their cuddles, despite how innocent and well intended, were never as platonic as Virgil’s and Logan’s. Of course he would think that if anyone was going to grow abusive as he clearly expected, it would be the man he unconsciously saw as a potential lover. If he kept projecting the fear that asshat had instilled in him onto Logan, they were in for quite a ride. 

Virgil sighed. He should have seen this coming. He was such a fucking idiotic idiot. 

If Patton had told Logan he was scared of him, Logan would overthink for sure – because he was also an idiot. He was probably in there thinking everyone was afraid of him and feeling like he had run over a baby bird or some shit. Someone with a pathological need to help would of course spiral right into self-hate. Hello, old friend. 

Well, Virgil was nothing if not a manipulative bitch. 

“Logan?” He called softly, knocking on the door far more quietly than he wanted to. 

“Logan, you’re scaring me. Please let me in! I’m worried you’ll hurt yourself, I can’t lose you too. Please let me in!” He begged, making his voice high and frightened and feeling absolutely no remorse whatsoever for once. 

The door was fumbled open as soon as his apparently fearful words had left his lips. The fucking sap. 

Logan was disheveled and looked like he’d tried to wipe his tears off to hide them. He looked heartbroken and painfully shy. And he’d still opened the door because of Virgil’s pleading. 

Fuck him, Virgil loved him so much.

He gave the startled, wide eyed man a hard push in the chest, angry at being forced to feel so much. How dare he think Virgil didn’t love him?!

“You’re such a- a fucking-” 

He lunged at him and buried his face in the conservative sweater, squeezing so hard Logan wheezed for breath. 

“You’re such a moron, man! Now hug me!” He demanded, holding on for dear life. Clearly utterly confused, Logan obeyed unsteadily. 

“You clueless idiot.” Virgil growled into the cable-knit, hating how wet his voice sounded. Why was there always so much fucking drama in this flat?! 

“Shake all those stupid thoughts out of your head and listen to me, okay? You don’t get to be a paranoid piece of shit, that’s my job!” 

Logan drew a breath to complain and Virgil just knew he would try to tell him that he very much was not an idiot and that Virgil was not allowed to insult himself. Well, Virgil wasn’t going to let him turn this around onto him. However, he wished he was better at this. He wished he could just drop this emotional mess into Remy’s lap and hide under the covers where he could come to terms with how uncomfortably much he cared for Logan. He squeezed him tighter – effectively cutting him off before he could speak – pressing himself as close as he possibly could. There were no words for the things he felt. Patton and Roman probably had some; plenty, in fact. He didn’t, and neither did Logan. But his hands were uncertainly brushing over his back and Virgil liked that helpless, platonic affection very, very much. 

“You absolute dimwit! Don’t ever think we don’t – that we don’t – we want to be here with you, okay? I trust you and I never trust anyone, cause I’m not a moron who adopts people, but I trust you so fucking much and I’ve had to make too many fucking confessions lately; so can you please just believe that we are your family and that Roman wants to be your fucking puppy; and Patton is messed up beyond belief but he’s fricking enamored with you; and that I’d really like to end this conversation right now, alright?? Don’t make me say anything else or I’ll knock myself out on that dresser!”

Unsurprisingly, Logan was at a loss for words. Not that he could have said much, considering how tightly Virgil was currently squeezing his ribcage. His little delinquent’s hug really was quite aggressive. 

He didn’t feel frightened either. His face – as much as Logan could see of it – was bright red. The poor thing was clearly embarrassed and tired of baring his feelings this way. Logan couldn’t shake his insecurity, though. He could feel obligated to calm him, after all. Virgil was so dependent on him. Feeling lost and just wishing he could bury his face in the once again tangled, purple hair he liked to groom, Logan tried to make his embrace as safe and comfortable as possible to his little charge. How he wanted to protect him from the world. The frame under his hands was still so thin and slender. He didn’t know how to articulate the rush of warmth he felt. He wanted to ask more questions, desperate to be reassured the things he wished for so dearly were true, but he felt Virgil’s tiredness, and he shared it. Trying to understand the way people talked - silent and illogical just with their bodies and gestures and the insinuations he failed to understand – it was still confusing to him sometimes, and when he thought he had gotten something wrong, he tended to overanalyze every interaction he had had with that person until he didn’t trust himself anymore. He was just tired. 

Embarrassed and stressed out of his mind, Virgil hid his face in their embrace and wished he could just crawl under the heavy, dark covers of his bed right now - the bed Logan had given him with all the books and space for his things and that citrus geranium that endlessly frustrated him with its wilting leaves. Pitying the poor, nerdy fool for his useless attempts, Virgil had started programming a sensor to monitor the plant’s humidity and sunlight intake for Logan. He had grown worried about the amount of annoyance that one dying plant caused the detective, okay? He didn’t want the dude paying his metaphorical rent to have a fucking stroke, that was all. And maybe he just wanted him to be happy. He had thought it might be something they could do together, though he hadn’t dared approach him about it yet. He didn’t want to annoy Logan with his nerdy ideas, and he hadn’t done something like this in so long. If his fucked-up mind made him mess this up he could never live it down. However, Remy’s voice telling him to quit being a drama queen and like, gush with the other massive nerd about his nerdy projects was clear in his memory. He didn’t want to talk feelings anymore. He wanted to huddle together with Logan and just fucking lose himself in something that made sense. Was it too much to ask to just be together? He thought that perhaps, it actually wasn’t. 

Making a decision, Virgil suddenly used his wiry muscles to push his body against Logan’s, toppling them onto the bed. He wasn’t going to talk this out. No sir, not this time. They both needed a fucking break. 

Logan huffed in surprise, especially since he was unexpectedly being pushed around by sharp elbows and bony shins until he had been shuffled into a position where Virgil could comfortably tuck himself under his arm and lay his head on his shoulder. Wrestling his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket, the younger man pulled up a still blank looking app that showed little else but two buttons on a white screen. 

“Wanna show you something.” Virgil muttered half into his wool sweater before launching into an explanation about the app he was programming. Logan was instantly intrigued. Wrapping his arm around his little one, he pulled Virgil close to navigate the still almost empty display with him, getting lost in the fluttering, enthusiastic feeling a fascinating project gave him. Virgil’s app could monitor the factors influencing growth and compare them to different locations in the flat or different amounts of moisture in the soil. Perhaps this way he could finally attempt to grow a lemon tree once again. He’d failed three times before giving up. The Failure still irked him.  

Before long, both men had comfortably cuddled together, discussing the advantages of a stainless-steel sensor as opposed to the inferior plastic ones other projects were using. Virgil was warm and small in his arm. His muscles were loose and he made sure to push and shove at Logan when he wanted to curl up more or wanted a certain space. Everything about him spoke of trust. 

Though Logan attempted to keep his touch respectful, being acutely aware of the fears that could awaken in his little charge, Virgil gave him no signals of discomfort. His heart beat steadily where his chest was pressed against Logan’s side and his breathing was even and calm. He sounded pleased when Logan complimented his ideas. Undoubtedly, Roman would be able to tell him if he really as relaxed as the factors he was monitoring were suggesting. He could see it all from nothing but a look. 

Roman never failed to tell him when he had messed up or needed to back off. Didn’t that speak of confidence? They had some difficult conversations about his actions in the past and his partner had always trusted him to tell him the truth. Certainly, he had told him plenty of times that he was limiting Roman’s heroic brilliance or ruining his entrance and such, but he had never complained about feeling hurt by Logan. Wouldn’t he at least have told him? But what about Patton? He had always suffered in silence rather than asking for help – or to stop. 

Logan gasped as bony fingers stabbed him in the side. 

“You’re thinking too loudly, dude.” Virgil complained, feeling ignored. He shouldn’t be surprised Logan needed things spelled out for him. He was Logan after all. 

Sighing as if he was forced to do something terrible by disentangling out of the embrace that had been warm and really fucking nice, he rose without much enthusiasm and yanked on Logan’s arm. 

“C’mon, you poor sod. Let Roman tell you how much he loves you. He might want to lick your face.”

“There will be no need for any of that.” The detective grumbled, reluctantly letting the smaller man pull him along. He didn’t know if he would be brave enough to face Patton without the aggressive interference. His face grew hot at the memory of the way he had fallen apart in front of him. He felt quite humiliated by his reaction. Patton had trusted him with his fears and he had made it all about himself and had made a fool of himself. Without the control he protected himself with he felt vulnerable. Naked even, as if his defenses had been torn away. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to be seen. 

Feeling his friend’s feet drag with shame, Virgil wrapped an arm around Logan’s middle and offered him strength through their silent contact. He still did not want to talk about feelings, it was exhausting, but he could always lend the support of his body. He was learning to use it in different ways, lately. 

Patton and Roman both sat up straight as they entered the living-room. From the way Logan hung his head in the futile attempt to hide his blush, it was clear to Roman what his friend needed now. It was his favorite partner’s love! 

Giving Patton an encouraging pat on the shoulder on the way, the young detective wasted no time wrapping Logan (and Virgil – who was conveniently wrapped in Logan’s arm, sue him) into his embrace. His little wildcat gave an irritated little growl but since he was largely ignored in favor of pecking annoying kisses all over his partner’s face, he let the cuddling slide. After all, they both smelled good and were comfy and shit. 

Logan turned his heated face away into Virgil’s hair, grumbling incoherently. He was too hot under the sweater and starting to get the feeling he needn’t have worried about Roman and Virgil after all. The little barista was comfortably leaning against him, letting him take his weight, and his partner was – he was reasonably certain – trying to annoy him in order to lighten the mood. He had overreacted once again. They must think him a dramatic child. He felt very, very inadequate. 

Perceptive as always, Roman angled them so his friend could hide his burning cheeks from sight. The poor man was probably mortified at showing emotions in front of the people who regularly suffered emotional accidents around him. 

“All is well now, my adoring fans. Prince Roman, beloved hero and winner of the Medal of Valor is here!” He cooed, hoping to get a rise out of them and lighten the mood. Virgil snorted. He made sure to push himself close to Logan and allow him to feel the way he was holding on to his sweater for support. 

Virgil would have liked to stay in this position longer and allow Roman to take the weight of the attention onto his broad shoulders, but Patton was still cowering at the edge of the sofa, wide eyed and anxious. His shoulders seemed very small. Though he was entirely silent, his small hands were nervously fidgeting with his long sleeves. He looked lost. 

The barista ached with pain for his friend. He had put himself through years of abuse to shield his piece of shit boyfriend and had blamed himself for his issues whenever he was suffering of whatever bullshit he got himself into. Patton was all about saving people. Having hurt someone he loved must be the worst kind of torture for him. Add to that the fear of retribution and he must be in one hell of a mess. And of course Virgil had attacked him after Logan’s little breakdown. Of course he had. 

Though he was torn about forcing Logan to face his fear of having frightened the baker, Virgil gently tried to free himself from the tangled embrace, which wasn’t easy since he was squished in the middle. 

Being especially weary about restricting his youngest guest, Logan immediately released the shorter man from under his arm, pulling his limbs close to his chest. Roman pounced and pulled his partner in again, humming to him lovingly. He would be patient to take this one step at the time. 

Virgil was feeling less than patient, to be quite honest. Why did they keep stepping into piles of emotional shit when all they wanted was to live quietly with each other and sometimes ogle Roman’s ass? (that might just be him, though) He just wanted Logan and Patton and Roman - the fucking, special dork - to be allowed to be fine. Was that too much to ask?!

Of course, despite Virgil wanting nothing but to protect his friend, Patton saw the frustration written clearly all over the slim features of the moody young man. His breath hitched. 

Aw shit. 

Virgil may be emotionally stunted to the point of still kind of hating Remy for making him want to talk to him, but he wasn’t blind. Especially to Patton. It was easy to see why he was ending up in those emotion-shitpiles. He kept aiming for them and jumped right in. He’d thought Patton would focus on Logan because – well, he still remembered being scared out of his mind as he had sat at his desk, cuffed and desperate and Logan had been furious about the pain of his partner. It had made sense, too. Logan was the responsible adult in the flat and Pat was used to the men responsible for him to turn on him, but it wasn’t just him. Virgil was doing it too, and more often than he had noticed initially. 

Making sure to appear nonthreatening – which normally wasn’t hard, considering how hunched and slim he still was, he pulled his sleeves over his hands and looked at Patton through his purple bangs. The baker swallowed visibly and attempted to smile at him, uncertainly. 

“Look, Pat, can we talk? It’s all good though. I wanna apologize. You’re not in trouble. ‘s fine.” He mumbled, looking down at his shoes. Swallowing hurt, suddenly. His throat felt tight. 

Patton didn’t speak. He was very pale.

‘You can do this.’ Virgil reminded himself as old, familiar pain rose in him upon being surrounded by suffering loved ones. ‘You took care of your mom and you’ll take care of him now. You can fix this. Just start somewhere.’ 

“Um, I – I think I messed up, I guess. ‘m sorry, man. I was really out of line before and I think I kinda scared you just now. Can we, um – can we talk about that? Please?”

Apparently finding the courage to speak in the face of Virgil’s scratchy voice, Patton finally responded with forced cheer in his voice. 

“Don’t you worry, kiddo! It’s all fine! There’s nothing to worry about. I get a little messy sometimes but that’s all my fault. You all don’t need to take it on your shoulders, please don’t do that! I’m really sorry for upsetting you all! This whole thing is my fault – please, just ignore me and don’t let silly little me worry you! I’m really sorry.” He rambled, glancing at Logan still squished in Roman’s embrace. He bit his lip, his eyes suspiciously bright, before he smiled at Virgil once again. Seeing Logan hide in his partner’s arms, clearly feeling too ashamed to face them, appeared to unbalance him. 

Yes, Virgil got that. Logan was supposed to be strong and seeing him insecure hurt in all kinds of ways that resonated deep in Virgil, pulling sharply at old wounds. Seeing the person you relied on weak and helpless cut you as if you were a child losing the protection of a parent. It never stopped hurting. Roman had situation that figured out, though. He joked quietly with his partner and finally simply pulled them both to the ground like a playful child, ignoring the complaints, and settled them against the bookshelves covering the first part of the living-room. Nicodemus had clambered onto the lowest shelf and wanted attention. With a little hop, he jumped onto his human’s shoulder, quieting his annoyance. 

Hidden half behind the couch and visually separated from the others by the wooden beams loosely enclosing the little library, Roman finally managed to give his friend a bit of security by offering the safety of his large body to lean against. They were still close enough to be there for the others and later reassure Logan, but for now he had a moment to compose himself again. 

That worked fine for Virgil. He didn’t know how he would have been expected to ignore the terrible fear for his protector, had Roman not calmly and sweetly taken over soothing him. Come to think of it, maybe the dork had the right idea with the cuddly, comfy shit. 

“Um, hey… how about we sit and figure it out together, okay?” He offered tentatively. The kitten and Cat were on the couch as well, unravelling a ball of string and in Cat’s case trying to bite it into submission for tangling around her little hand-paws. 

Patton nodded obediently, quickly rushing to clean up a place for them by tidying away Roman’s drawings and his knitting needles. Whatever progress he seemed to have made with Logan yesterday seemed to have crumbled in the face of actually making their most reliable protector crumble from his words. Virgil knew those moments where no amount of rationality could cut through the pain of having failed the person you love. Even if you had given up your education, your dreams, your time and health and safety, every failure replayed in your mind, pressing you down with guilt. 

Virgil tried to swallow his memories through the heaviness in his chest. He ran a suddenly shaking hand over his face. He had relied on Logan and Patton so much to give him strength and structure and confidence and now one of them was still silently cowering on the floor, uncharacteristically small and fearful of the confrontation with Patton and still flushed hot with shame, and the other looked at him like he expected him to shout. His Patton. It was a position he had never expected to be in, anymore. One of the reasons he had left the Scorpions was because he couldn’t forget the pale, frightened face of the slight baker and now they were back, full circle, knee deep in a pile of emotional shit. 

“Hey, no no no, c’mere, kiddo.” Patton cooed suddenly. His hands were still warm while Virgil’s had grown weak and cold. He pulled Virgil on the couch with him and without hesitation, into his arms. His little body folded against the barista like a cat’s, flexible and trusting. Running his fingers through the purple mess, Patton rocked him slightly. 

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry for scaring you, Kiddo. I just get like that sometimes. I know I shouldn’t and it’s stupid, so you can just ignore it and it’ll go away. There’s no reason to feel bad at all - you are doing wonderfully. Please don’t think about it. I love you so very much.” He promised, his voice tender and honey sweet. He nuzzled their faces together and curled them up comfortably, making Virgil feel so so small. Like a child in his mother’s arms. Taking a shuddering breath, he held on. 

“That’s okay, Pat. I get like that, too. Just… different. I um – Remy says I get aggressive instead, and try to – to push people away and expect the worst of them – cause… cause of the – because after my mom… when she got – she got sick I…”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Patton mercifully whispered against his hair, impossibly loving. Virgil hadn’t even realized how irregular his breathing had become. He had almost told him about- his heart hammered in his chest with a sudden rush of terror. What the fuck had possessed him?! 

After counting his breathing to get his shit together, Virgil tried again to make his point. 

“Pat, I’m trying to- to tell you that I get it. I totally do. You go through all that shit and it fucks you up – sorry, I’m sorry – it messes you up and you expect to see sh-stuff around every corner and – and that’s fine! Remy says it’s normal and if we talk about it with – with them, they’ll get it. We’ve got triggers, man, and that’s okay. We triggered Logan a little bit and that happens, too. Now we know, right? I’ve got triggers and you’ve got them too, and we walked right in cause we’re all morons cause we don’t talk – cause it’s f-ing horrible. But – can we talk about it? Please?”

“Oh, of course. I’d like to know what makes you and… and Logan anxious. I didn’t want to hurt him.” Patton mumble quietly, very aware that the detective was still in the same room and they hadn’t cleared up the situation yet. His heart raced with anxiety over his reaction. 

A little grunt signaled Roman wordlessly telling Logan his moment had arrived. With his elbow. 

The detectives slunk around the couch and gently folded themselves on the free space on the couch, Roman shamelessly curling close to his partner and laying his arm over the armrest against Logan’s shoulders. Though he didn’t seem quite able to look Patton in the eye yet, Logan hesitantly spoke up.

“I believe a substantial amount of anxiety could have been prevented on every side had our communication been more efficient. I would like to discuss the situation in a nonjudgmental setting. Would you be willing to talk to us, Patton?” 

The baker fidgeted with Virgil’s hoodie nervously, shrinking a little under all the attention. The younger man in his arm gave him comfort, though. 

“Of course! I’ll do anything to make it okay. I’m really sorry I did this.” He promised softly. 

Logan took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. Patton feared he was trying to hold back his anger. They were all here and stressed because of him. He had thought they had figured it out together yesterday but this time, he really was the one who had messed up. Never, in a million years, had he expected Logan to fall apart like that because of something he had said. He was still shaken to the core by the detective’s sudden vulnerability. 

“Patton, may I ask you to stop apologizing?” Logan asked gently, finally looking at him through slightly reddened eyes. “There is no need to blame yourself. You have done nothing wrong. No one is upset with you. We merely wish to prevent further misunderstandings.”

“Oh.” Patton muttered, suddenly realizing just how much he’d been apologizing with a rush of shame. Trevor had told him how irritating his stupid repetitions were. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words were out before he had any hope of composing himself. His breath caught in his throat, heat flooding his cheeks. He barely swallowed the urge to apologize for failing even at this simple request. Not knowing how to fix the situation, he fell silent, waiting for them to scoff at him. He had been doing so much better yesterday, why was he here again? Couldn’t he learn?

“It is alright, Patton.” Logan offered mercifully. 

“But… I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” Patton added, somehow trying to convey how sorry he was. He couldn’t seem to forget the look on his friend’s gentle, handsome face. 

“I never believed you would harm me intentionally, Patton. You could not have known that your confession would cause me such anxiety. Addressing a topic that needs to be discussed is your right and I would like to encourage you to continue to bring such issues to my attention without fear. It lies in the nature of psychological triggers to cause severe reactions despite appearing insignificant to others. Perhaps, to improve your comprehension of the situation, I ought to explain that I was taken back to a memory from my childhood. Due to the fact that I am autistic, I read situations wrong quite frequently and thus unknowingly alienate my peers. I am afraid my failure to understand the discomfort you have felt in our home has forcefully reminded me of the possibility of a misinterpretation of the personal relationships in my life.” 

Patton stilled, trying to take Logan’s words in. There was so much that hit him right in the heart. Logan was autistic? He felt like a light had been turned on suddenly and was illuminating their interactions in an entirely different way. He wanted to ask a million questions! This actually made a lot of sense. His head was spinning with the revelation and the new understanding it brought. He could picture little Logan quite clearly now, trying to understand the things that were still difficult to him now, but must have been impossibly confusing back then. He must have been so hurt by the other children! Pain shot through his chest like a living, furious thing ripping at his organs. Little wide eyed, nerdy, vulnerable Logan appeared before his mind’s eye and it felt like a punch, like he was drowning in sorrow. Patton had put him through that again. He was such an idiot, how could he have missed it? Logan had doubted himself so badly and he knew how much that hurt. Patton should have known sooner, Logan had obviously struggled with reading a room, but he had blinded the baker with how skillfully he handled all of his messes with his deep, commanding voice and confident hands. It was just that sometimes he lost control and showed how hard everything must be for him. Though he badly wanted to apologize again, to tell him how sorry he was for causing all of that stress and anger, especially after Logan had comforted him, he wanted to reassure him even more.

“I’m – but – you know that I care about you, right? I was just being stupid. Please don’t think that I or anyone else doesn’t trust you or doesn’t love you so much! You are the best friend I’ve ever had. You protect me and help me and I really – it’s really all my fault, you did nothing wrong! You are the smartest, kindest, most great and amazing man I’ve ever met! Ever! You’re a savior – my savior. Please believe me, everyone here loves you so much!” Patton exclaimed, helplessly grabbing Logan’s hand in his attempt to make him see. There was so much he felt for his friend, his heart was so full, it would burst if he felt more for Logan. He could barely handle himself from how much he wanted. He had never, ever wanted someone to know he was loved as much as him. 

The detective startled as his hand was clutched, gently returning the hold. His smile was bittersweet. 

“Thank you, Patton. Your kindness is appreciated. Perhaps I ought to have told you two sooner. It is possible that I still, subconsciously, attempt to pass for a neurotypical person. A foolish attempt, certainly. I will try to be more honest with you from now on.” 

“You’re not that bad, man.” Virgil mumbled bashfully, awkwardly trying to break the silence that had fallen over them as they processed the detective’s words. They clever young man was clearly unsurprised by Logan’s confession. Roman smiled at him for his contribution, silently comforting his partner. 

“I am… relieved to learn our relationship is not damaged beyond repair. And I would like to remind you once again that you do not need to apologize or take the blame for my issues. They are quite beyond your control.”

“What my bumbling, brilliant best bud is trying to say-” Roman chimed in, giving his friend a break, “is that we all have our little issues. They give us character and that is charming! They are part of our exciting origin stories! Even I, fearless Detective Roman Prince, owner of the Medal of Valor, have my own demons to vanquish.” He boasted, raising his free arm dramatically to pose. Suddenly feeling the supportive, undivided attention of his friends rest heavily on him (even the pest sniffed at his nose), he grew a little more quiet. Talking about his triggers was not fun, even for one as marvelously brave and exceptionally well adjusted as Roman. However, if he wanted his lovely dorks to finally open up, someone needed to make the start. 

“I… you know my sister died from an overdose, right?” 

Patton gasped. 

Or maybe not. Oops.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry for springing that on you, fair Patton! But all is well, please don’t fret. I shall tell you about it all another time if you like. You truly mustn’t worry about me.”

Patton nodded bravely, clutching onto Logan’s hand hard and holding Virgil so tightly he wheezed a little bit. Roman worried for his ribs. Yet knowing this conversation must be had in order to coax Patton – and perhaps even his stormy night –  to open up, he marched on.

“So, because of my sister, I don’t handle drug abuse and such issues as glamorously as I usually do. And… because of… reasons…” Roman trailed off lamely, not trusting Patton’s bright eyes enough to also tell him about his neglectful childhood. Forcefully cheerful, he continued, “Yes, so sometimes when people ignore me intentionally or not or things get too silent around me and no one pays attention to me I feel really sad and lonely, like no one will ever love me again.” 

Smiling brightly, Roman was met with deafening silence. 

From the other side of their group, Patton lunged at him and yanked him into his arms, squishing Logan and Virgil between them with strength born from pure protectiveness. He appeared emotional beyond words. 

Roman floundered a little, unbalanced by the awkward hug. It wasn’t so bad, though. Patton had somehow managed to climb half into Logan’s lap in order to get his arm around Roman, conveniently allowing the detective to hide his still flushed face in the baker’s neck and cushioning him between Patton and his rat. Poor Virgil had simply been dragged along – which he would have never allowed anyone else to do. To prevent him from tumbling off the couch, Logan had wrapped a quick, steadying arm around him, drawing his skinny body close. Virgil pawed and shifted against them a little, growling and grumbling, before sagging between them with a defeated sigh. The fuck was he supposed to do?! Tell Patton to release the suddenly iron tight grip on his hoodie? He didn’t think so. 

“Uh, are you alright, dearest Patton?” Roman inquired tentatively. The baker nodded, obsessively nuzzling the young detective’s face with his own like a bespectacled cat. It was hard not to feel soft and faint when he was loved so obviously. Carefully, he brought his arms up to wrap around Patton – and Logan as a consequence, and Virgil on the other side, safely pulling him against his large body, lending stability to their embrace. The barista folded his slender limbs just right to fit between Logan and Patton pleasantly, just where they needed him for their comfort. 

“It’s all good, lovely Patton.” Roman rumbled softly, filling the space between them with his deep, smooth voice. “We all fight our dark little demons that cling to our hearts, trying to tell us how small und unwanted we are. They are quite wrong, though, and sometimes we need someone to show us that.”

Remembering the path that brought him to confidently bump shoulders with Logan or push his head against his side for cuddles when they were working too quietly made his insides swell with emotion. It was a path both Patton and Virgil were walking right now; one they could join Logan and him on. 

“Life is like a dance, my dear.” Roman murmured into curly brown locks. “Even when you found the right partner, learning the rhythm and the steps has to be done together, whether it’s a passionate tango where you twirl and dip your partner or a comfortable waltz where you quietly hold each other close. Even Logan and I had to find the right way to twist and twirl around each other. And we stepped onto each other’s feet plenty.”

Logan huffed softly, remembering the tense beginning of their partnership all too well and not missing it in the least. 

“We were blessed with quite differing tempers, Logan and I.” Roman elaborated lightly. “I wanted his attention badly and tried to mold myself to what I believed to be his wishes. Every failed attempt to gain his approval felt like a person failure and discouraged me greatly. At the same time, Logan wanted my glittering friendship but felt irritated since he lacked the competence to appreciate my performance!” 

Logan groaned, tentatively adjusting his hold on Virgil, staying very still otherwise, so as not to make Patton uncomfortable with their close proximity. 

“Our cooperation suffered from a server lack of communication, as it turned out.” He added to Roman’s explanation.

“True! I mistakenly believed my stiff partner to wish for a boringly rugged, brash colleague to brood with – like Bruce Willis and such heroic, bland heterosexuals. There really isn’t a lot of material to mold my performance after, let me tell you! A travesty! But alas, we solved that pesky issue and I got to be the blessing you know and love!” Roman boasted, jostling a grumpy Virgil with his constant need to move around to embellish his story. 

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, the young detective shifted so he could gently capture Patton’s chin to make him look at him. He wanted him to understand how much he understood his continued insecurity. The baker shyly returned his gaze. 

“Having found our style doesn’t mean everything was suddenly easy, though. Friendship takes time, and practice.” He explained kindly. Releasing him again, he made sure to smile lovingly at the unbalanced little thing. 

“Logan tried to show – in his own way – that he accepted me. But we were still two different people with different needs. I was cared for. For a long time, however, I suffered days where I could not see it. Logan needs a professional routine and sometimes silence to be able to work and I… I don’t do well with silence. When we worked a case, I sometimes got lost in my head, thinking Logan ignored me or that I had done something wrong, and he was pushing me away on purpose. As a response, I tried to gain his attention and approval any way I could think of – alienating and irritating him in the process.”

“Oh RoRo, I’m so sorry!” Patton mumbled tearfully. 

“Oh no, Patton, love, it’s all good – all’s well that ends well, right? Logan might have been unsure of what to do with a colorful delight such as myself, but having learned how much I wanted our friendship, he was determined to be there for me.”

Logan, having tensed during the story about their frictions, relaxed very slightly. 

“Being the literal nerd that he is, he decided to do what worked last time and took me out for a drink. Cocoa, this time, since alcohol is vile and disgusting, seriously! And he asked me what I needed from him, which is charming, but also slightly lacking in presentation – a renewed declaration of platonic love and perhaps a bouquet would not have gone amiss- ow!”

Feeling Logan’s annoyance and knowing he was still too mortified to draw attention to himself, Virgil took pity on him and poked Roman on his older friend’s behalf. All of them cringed at Roman’s high-pitched wail. 

“Alright, alright!” The dramatic detective whined, trying to get back to the story. “So, my dearest, most beloved partner made an effort to adjust to my needs and we talked – dreadfully boring, I know. No grand declarations of friendship for me! However, we found ways to make me feel more welcome and cared about, which took a bit of experimenting, as you can imagine! Oh! I was sure Logan made a book about it with graphs and such but I never asked!”

The stubborn silence of the older detective spoke volumes. Roman grinned brightly. 

“See, lovely Patton, the result of our efforts! Before learning to understand each other I would have missed the romance of a journal dedicated to my wellbeing – which I wanna see, pronto! And I would not have gotten quiet cuddles during his silent phases to be reminded of his undying devotion to me, or have his bickering, which is his attempt to reach out and shower me with the attention I so deserve!” Roman cheerfully explained, his eyes shining. He loved remembering all the little ways Logan tried to make him feel loved. 

“A dance between two people can look all sorts of ways, you know?” He elaborated. “Ours includes little ways of supporting each other which might not even look that nice to the uninvited spectator. How is one to know that our bickering and roughhousing is a sigh of our epic bromance, grown through trial and tenacity?”

Quietly, Logan spoke up finally. 

“I am afraid Roman is giving me too much credit. He actually handled our relationship with much more skill and subtlety than I would have ever been capable of. I had long feared making him uncomfortable with my unapproachable ways and complaints and had few, ineffective ideas about how to rectify the situation.”

Curiously, Patton eased his death grip on Roman, wanting to give Logan all of his attention. Their desperate knot of limbs eased into a comfortable huddle, thanks to Roman and Patton adjusting their hold on their partner and kiddo. 

“You must certainly have noticed that I tend to come across as rather cold and intimidating, which I am aware of - mostly. Unfortunately, I did not yet know how to make myself more approachable. Additionally, I had offended more than one colleague with my inappropriate reactions and feared a repeat my mistakes with Roman. As a result, I attempted to limit my verbal interactions to the bare essentials, or – frequently failing to uphold this intention – talked too much and too clinically out of nervousness. Roman invested a considerable amount of care and effort into the improvement of our communication, which I am grateful for. He supported me by patiently explaining my failures and helping me improve, and even by taking control of situations that have threatened to emotionally overwhelm me.”

“Awww!!!” Roman gushed, grinning so brightly his eyes shone and his whole face lit up attractively. He was stupidly pretty and Virgil was not okay. 

“There is no need for applause, my beloved fans!” The young detective exclaimed, raising his manicured hands to calm imaginary masses. “That bouquet I never got will do just fine! And that journal about your attempts to friend-court me – I demand you hand that over!”

“There is no such thing as a ‘friend-courting’ journal.” Logan growled, shuffling about feeling uncomfortably bashful in their cuddle pile with Roman half draped over his back. He didn’t dislodge his partner’s chin when it came to rest on his shoulder, though. 

Patton watched their grumpy, yet somehow soft interaction though a now clear gaze. Logan looked annoyed and flustered and Roman was being a demanding diva, yet they were intertwined in friendly cuddles. The baker was still feeling a little tense whenever their deep, rumbling voices dropped low (or high, in Roman’s case), but there was no denying the tenderness filling their interactions. Ducking his head close to Virgil, he was reminded of how thoroughly he had messed everything up today. Their love had always been so obvious to him and now he could barely look at Logan without shame. 

Shifting uncomfortably under Patton’s arm, Virgil started fidgeting with a loose thread on the soft cardigan he was pressed against. 

“When I got here, I thought Logan and Roman would lock me in.” He muttered softly even as his face heated and his heart started hammering. Nausea was already making its way into his throat, yet he knew Patton needed to know he wasn’t alone in this. 

The pâtissier tensed, his breath catching with surprise. Startled, he looked up at the pained faces of the detectives looking down at the bowed, purple head. 

“They didn’t, f’course. I was just being stupid paranoid. Logan gave me a key and a room I could lock and Roman was – he was a good guy. They both were. They never asked for anything or pushed me or… I was making a lot of stuff up and kept making everyone nervous cause of it. Logan had to arrest me, you see, cause of the Scorpions. I wanted to leave and he didn’t know that yet, cause I’d botched it, and I’d hurt Roman and… I should’ve been in jail and I didn’t understand why I wasn’t. They even risked their lives to save me which I just didn’t get. So, you know – I made up reasons for their kindness for a long time and started looking for clues to support my ideas and I kept reading things Roman did wrong, and he knew. I was a screw up and kinda anxious and aggressive and Logan kept calming me and Roman kept miserably trying to not scare the screw up, which is nice, man. Thank you.” He muttered softly, daring to glance up at Roman for just a moment. 

“But it’s okay, man. I’m starting to understand them better. There’s stuff I can do here – stuff I’m good at. I’m getting more comfortable with myself and that makes me less anxious about them and that makes them more calm – especially Roman. Logan is just – he’s really good at handling all that. He’s calm and - steady. And now I feel like… like things are getting better? But even that doesn’t mean they are perfect. I get… I still get issues and nightmares and stuff and I get angry, kinda a lot. Somehow, Roman knows how to deal with me when I’m like that. I don’t – I have no idea how he does it.” Virgil mumbled, trailing off softly. 

The group was very quiet, sensing he had to gather his courage. 

Clearing his throat and making extra sure not to look up from the protection of his bangs, Virgil took a deep breath. 

“I thought I’d gotten it under control, with you. Helping you. But I messed it up big time, didn’t I? I scared you and I wanna explain it to you, you don’t have to forgive me.” He cut Patton off before he managed to speak, gently capturing his soft hand and squeezing it, trying to swallow the pounding, frantic emotion brewing in him. 

“It’s just - I’m just mad at the world for not leaving you the fuck alone. Things keep happening all the time to you, and Remy and Logan try to help calm me but I -  sometimes I can’t deal with it any other way! I just hate that you get hurt. I just- I just want you to be happy. That’s why I’m mad. Not at you, but… for you, I guess.”

Patton sighed deeply, feeling tears gather. His kiddo. He was so small and frustrated and helpless and Patton could see what he meant. He understood, suddenly. 

“Oh. I hadn’t- I hadn’t thought of that. I just thought you’d be mad at me because – because I-”

“No one’s ever really mad at you, man. You’re a literal fucking angel.” Virgil interrupted tiredly.

“Language!”

“Sorry, man.” Virgil muttered demurely. But fuck him, he was tired. Emotions. He wanted back into Logan’s bed and snuggle up with him. He had the feeling if he fell asleep with his older protector, Logan would end up being the big spoon and that sounded quite safe. 

“I get it, though. I’m doing this a lot to you, aren’t I? I get mad all the time cause I’m an aggressive screw up and you have to take the fall. I didn’t notice I was making you nervous, but I’ll figure it out, okay? We can make you feel safe if you help us understand what’s got you spooked.”

“Okay.” Patton agreed finally. “But you have to stop saying you’re a screw up! You’re not! You’re the smartest kiddo I know and I am so proud of you! You mustn’t feel bad because I get a little anxious sometimes! I just love you a lot and want things to be well!”

“Sure, Pat.” Virgil promised, deflating after his emotion-dumping was finally done. He could see the worry on Patton’s face, see his mind working with his attempt to figure out what exactly Virgil had been afraid the detectives would do to him, but that horrifying conversation could wait till another day. Preferably in ten or twenty years. Or never.

Meanwhile, Patton was looking up at all of them. At Roman comfortably draping himself over Logan’s back, letting him take his weight while he wrapped his arms around his older colleague, lacing his fingers over the others stomach. At Logan still trying to avert his gaze despite keeping a gentle arm wrapped loosely around Patton’s back, and at Virgil who was involving himself in a staring match with Cat who had rolled away, clearly contemplating whether he wanted to drag the moody raccoon into their mess. 

Cat hissed at him. 

Bristling, Virgil hissed back. 

“I- um.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Patton. 

“I wanted to thank you, for opening up and telling me all that. I know it must have been hard.” He murmured softly. 

There was so much he was still thinking about. Their exchange was like nothing he’d ever experienced. The way they all had learned to look out for each other because they had hurt their friends unintentionally gave him hope. These men were so kind and tender with their loved ones. They truly thought about their friend’s problems and tried to change in any way they could to be what the others needed. He had wondered how men such as Logan and Roman, who were so different, had managed to become so in tune with each other. It seemed like they had worked hard to get where they were and now, they were offering the same effort to Virgil – and to him. He was awed by their willingness to forgive his failures and the pain he had caused. He’d grown used to bearing the pain alone and being the one to keep trying to adjust, to do better and offend less and please a partner who wouldn’t be pleased with himself. He’d never been looked after this way. 

With renewed confidence, he smiled at them, genuine and grateful. 

Finally, Logan smiled back. 

Though his posture was still not as confident as usual, the expression transformed his face and made him look soft and approachable. Like the kind of man that would soothe a defensive creature like Virgil with calm words or heal Patton with his gentle hands on him. 

“There is no need to thank us, Patton. Considering the amount of times we have misunderstood each other, a conversation is long overdue and will benefit all of us.” 

Patton’s little heart fluttered at the smooth tone of that deep voice. It was like Logan was intentionally speaking more quietly in order to soothe him. The pitch made his dark voice all kinds of rumbly. Patton felt a little nervous flutter upon being spoken to that way. Trying not to let his silly reaction show, he plastered a big smile onto his face. 

“Okay. Alright. So it looks like it’s confession time! Buckle up, kids!”  

Roman grinned at him encouragingly. 

“Okay.” Patton said again, trying to sort out his thoughts and make the words come. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak it was as if something lodged itself into his throat, snatching his breath away. How did you tell your friends who had washed the blood off your body and accepted you into their home that he had been uncomfortable in their care? It was impossible. 

Virgil leaned away from him briefly to snatch up Cat, somehow avoiding the sharp claws that tried to free her from emotional support duty. Snorting, Virgil pressed her back against his stomach and settled her into his lap, aggressively loving her. 

“You’re a bristly beast, you know that? You keep pulling threads and gnawing on the furniture and you have an attitude.” Cat snapped her jaws at him. “That’s okay.” Virgil promised. “I dig it.”

Wrapping his arms around her more comfortably, Virgil allowed her to leave if she wanted to. She bit his thumb with sharp little teeth before curling her fluffy, striped tail around his elbow and settling in. 

Patton laughed softly, recognizing the attempt to make him more comfortable with his confession. He loved Virgil so much. 

“Okay.” He whispered one last time. “So, I – I sometimes get a bit antsy, because Trevor and I – we used to fight a lot. I can be a little difficult, after all. And I guess I got a little used to looking for reasons to worry, since there was always another thing to argue about. And you all didn’t do anything wrong! You are all wonderful and I know you wouldn’t do anything mean! But… there are some things I felt- that made me a bit… insecure, I guess.”

“What things are those, sweet Patton?” Roman inquired gently, keeping his voice soft. 

“Oh, just little things. Nothing to worry about! I’m just overly nervous, is all! I guess I’m just too sensitive.” Patton confessed, trying one last time to avoid making his friends uncomfortable. Neither of them took the bait, though. 

“Pat, it’s okay.” Virgil nudged him with his shoulder before grabbing Nugget’s middle as it tried to climb over them to get to its human and settled it into his friend’s arms. It curled its head and rolled into a purring ball.

“Yes, right. Sorry.” Patton amended. “So, I just worry sometimes, when I get nervous from time to time and start expecting things, when someone raises their voice it makes me a bit frightened. And… you guys just bicker with each other sometimes -  when Roman starts complaining I get worried you guys might fight and when Logan has something to complain about because we make a mess, I worry that things might get… bad. And… and sometimes when Virgil gets annoyed at something – which I think is wonderful! I love that you’re passionate – but I – I just hear nothing but the tone, sometimes, and not what is being said. It’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

The group grew very quiet after Patton’s confession. The pâtissier was stoically looking at the kitten, trying to hide the gathering tears, while the men in his life tried to come to terms with his confession.  

Finally, Roman reached around Logan and wrapped a warm, large hand around Patton’s where they were cradling the kitten. “It’s not stupid, sweet Patton. Your feelings are natural and you deserve to have them taken into consideration.” 

“Yeah, man. We’re really sorry.” 

“I too, would like to extend my apologies for causing you discomfort.” Logan added quietly. “I should have realized how our behaviour would affect you, considering your experiences.” 

Patton quickly rubbed at his tears and tried to find his smile. He was usually good at pulling himself together and chase away everyone’s worry with a joke, but his tears just kept coming. It was the warmth of Virgil at his side, so slender and still supportive like a solid, graceful steel construction wrapped around him. Logan held him in a tentative hug and Roman towered over him, gently caressing his fingers buried in fur. Patton was warm and surrounded by loving people with tender hands on him and a raccoon that was drooling on his sleeve where it had rested its head. It was so much better than he’d ever dared dream of. He’d forgotten how much he had hoped for this. For a home. The realization that he was right in the middle of this group, cradled and protected and wanted washed over him. Even though he was being stupid. 

“Thank you. So much.” He muttered, his voice thick with tears. “Please don’t change. I’ll be fine. I’m so happy to be here.”

The three men exchanged a look over his light brown curls, silently promising each other to come back to this topic and to make sure Patton always knew he was safe no matter how much their bickering got out of hand. For now, their beloved baker appeared tired enough to fall asleep in their arms. 

“We are pleased to know you are enjoying our company. The feeling is mutual.” Logan noted carefully. “However, if it would be acceptable to you, we would like to continue working on making you feel safe with us like we have done for each other before and like you have been with us since the beginning of our friendship. It will not cause us any trouble. Additionally, I would like inform you of an offer Dr. Emile Harris asked me to relay to you.”

Virgil perked up slightly, hopefully raising his head to listen.  

“Remy mentioned that he would like to visit us soon in order to spend time with me and personally continue his sessions with Virgil. Additionally, he would like to bring his husband with him who he explained appears to be quite fond of you. Roman has graciously offered to take the children to the park to entertain them… if you are amenable to being in the company of Remy’s husband, of course.”

Wiping his eyes dry with his long, soft sleeve, Patton thought the offer through. Remembering Emile with his sweet smile and warm eyes and his gentle playfulness with his children made him feel safe already. Talking to him had cleared so much up. Perhaps he could help him figure things out before they got out of hand next time, so he wouldn’t hurt anyone again. He’d really been silly. Sitting here, on this very couch he’d dreamed about, with his very own adorable baby kitten in his hands, he could hardly understand how he could have forgotten how much he loved it here. He never wanted to forget again. And he wanted to see Emile. It was difficult not to tell Logan it was all fine and to try not to cause more effort for everyone, but he could feel so clearly how much his friends wanted him to get better. Like Patton wanted with Virgil. He wanted his kiddo to heal and be happy and Roman to never feel unloved again and he wanted Logan to know he was so so cared about and just perfect the way he was. He wished he could see how amazing he truly was. Patton had so many feelings about his man. He longed to… do so much. Make him feel so much. They were all here to take care of each other, and if he wanted to look after them, perhaps he should let them help him as well. 

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” 

Roman grinned, immediately cheered up by the idea of going to a playground, dressing up and playing knights and princess and fighting dragons. Virgil, too, seemed to nestle against Patton more calmly. Reassured that his family was feeling secure, Logan finally relaxed properly in their cuddle pile. His breath left him in a deep sigh as Patton carefully leaned against him, rubbing his cheek against his wool sweater. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the silky curls.

***************************************************

End of chapter notes: So we ended in a cuddle pile again because who needs variety.

Once again, if you guys feel like supporting me, here’s the old Ko-fi page link :)

The app Virgil is programming wasn’t supposed to be in the story, actually. It just jumped at me that it would be a cool project from them to share because Virgil needs to build things again and Logan loves his plants and data. And ACTUALLY my boyfriend is making that very same app because our f*cking lemon tree keeps dying. I’ve bought him another one last year and it is constantly on the brink of death. The Failure is real. We manage to make it grow leaves and they keep falling off again. Every.fricking.time. The fucker. (We’re both having issues at this point). The app will be available sometime this year with his sensors and all. If you have a plant that keeps dying on you and you are as stupidly stubborn as Logan, I’ll post a link and you can nerdily try to save it. I’ll keep you updated because my boyfriend is making an app all on his own and I am just so darn proud of him!!! (And Virgil can program it with Logan which will be adorable and get Virge out there again).

ART:

@olcia46​ made another edit I’d die for. I just think they are so pretty! The colours, the outline of the boys, all of it!

and I’m not even certain if I shared this LOVELY picture of @galaxy-sketch​ of Virgil and Nicodemus sitting on a counter yet but it’s lovely enough to look at twice!

Next Chapter

[oliveiraveiro]

find an escape

part 2 of 3 of The Weekend

Open Heart, Rafael x F!MC

series summary: Casey and Rafael try to face their respective feelings and be honest about them to each other. With Sora in the picture, what can happen in short three days? What will happen after?

chapter summary: Casey and Rafael are definitely not dating.

tags/warning: pining, eventual happy ending, fluff, rafael x sora, emotional cheating

word count: 2043 / ao3 link / part 1 / part 3

Saturday night.

“She’s right, you know. Our situation isn’t exactly the prettiest.” Casey glances at Rafael.

They were now seated at a bench outside the hospital, Casey toughing out the cold air because the alternative is taking Rafael’s jacket.

Having his scent that intimately close to her when his girlfriend is already mad at them, she knew that was the last thing they needed. But even at a distance she smells his cologne and aftershave, and it was so familiar that too many memories flood her mind all at once.

“We’re friends. What’s not pretty about that?” Rafael interrupts her thoughts about needing to be strong to not give in and end up embracing him.

“Exes shouldn’t be friends, Rafael.” Casey sighs. “At the end of relationships people should be resenting each other. If not…” she trails off, looking away, embarrassed.

“If not…?” Rafael urges after a moment, only looking at her more intently.

“If not, then they haven’t moved on. Or…doesn’t want to.” She continues, only looking ahead, letting out another breath.

A beat passes, both of them silent. “You- you really think that?” Rafael asks after another moment and he bites on his bottom lip.

“I do, Raf. Because…I haven’t moved on from you. And I don’t want to because I want to keep you in my life.” She finally meets his gaze, smiling a little, but evidently serious. “What’s your excuse?”

“Like I said before, Casey, I still care about you--”

“I know, Raf. But you can’t, not anymore. Even more now that your girlfriend is obviously unhappy about it.” She interrupts.

“Are you saying we shouldn’t be friends anymore?” he asks, frowning and already looking sad.

“I’m just saying… maybe that’s for the best. This whole ordeal tonight, Sora kissing you like that in front of everyone… she means no harm. She did it only because she doesn’t want to make you choose between her and a friend, and with jealousy and alcohol mixed together… Well, it’s probably the only way that made sense to make sure I remember you’re hers.”

“You don’t have to defend her, Casey. It was inappropriate, and I… I’m sorry that she was disrespectful. I- we weren’t… doing anything wrong.”

“Weren’t we?” she looks over at him again. “Because my heart still skips a beat whenever you smile at me. Maybe that’s too obvious than I thought.”

Indeed, there are a plenty of times Rafael catches Casey blushing at something he says. But does that mean anything? Because he knows his eyes light up whenever he sees her beautiful smile or she says something funny, and he smiles too wide his cheeks hurt whenever she talks so passionately about something. Or…basically about anything, really. Do those mean anything?

Slowly, it dawns on him, and he starts to feel a sense of impending danger in his stomach. He used to think confronting Casey is the thing he is scared of the most, but confronting his feelings about Casey? Running into a burning building is easier than this.

“Listen… Sora’s been waiting for you for a while now. And I should get back inside soon.” Casey finally gets up, wrapping her arms around herself. “I still care about you too, Raf, but that includes me not being in the way of your relationship. We don’t-” her voice breaks. “We don’t have to avoid each other, but I don’t think we should be too comfortable spending time together either. It’s… for the best.”

I’d say you’re convincing me and not yourself, but I know better. Rafael takes a long shaky breath, standing up after her. “You’re saying…”

“I’m letting you go.” There is no mistaking Casey’s shining eyes. She does her best to blink back the tears, to no avail.

Rafael quickly moves to pull her into a tight hug, and Casey only tears up more at his warm embrace. She hugs him back as tightly, making the moment last. His scent, the feel of his body against her, the way he absentmindedly rubs her shoulder with his thumb: it all intoxicated her. If only she can stay in his arms like this forever.

“It’s my turn to talk. I’m not letting you, Casey. You’re right about a lot of things, and I have just as plenty to apologize and make up for, but this is not where we’ll end. Not when we broke up a few months ago, and not tonight.” He finally says after a long minute.

She starts to pull away, shaking her head. “Please don’t make this harder--”

“Trust me, Casey.” Rafael meets her eyes with pure determination that she does not dare insist otherwise. They can talk again, someday. Soon, hopefully. Tonight is already a real breakthrough, she doesn’t need to push it more.

“Okay, Raf. I trust you.” Casey need not to lie, and she smiles as Rafael smiles at her, her heart doing the familiar skipping.

He leans in close, pressing a soft, tender kiss to her forehead. Casey can only smile more and close her eyes, letting herself forget everything for a moment and focus on Rafael’s soft lips and his somehow warm hands holding her face. She takes more than a moment in his arms again, but it still feels too short as she starts to pull away.

She puts up a brave face. “Go get your girl.”

He takes her hand, affectionately kissing her knuckles. I will, Rafael thinks only to himself.

Sunday morning.

Casey is usually high-spirited during Sundays. At this day of the week she already had fun, and she will only spend the day to get more rest and relaxation. It is the perfect day to get her mind back to work so she is ready to face new cases and patients.

This particular Sunday, however, all her thoughts as she drank her coffee are about Rafael. This somehow feels worse than their breakup, because there is no staying friends anymore. No more spending time with him, no more stealing glances at his beautiful face, no more giggling to herself at something he says that is not even that funny.

Halfway through her drink Casey hears the doorbell. She peeks at the living room, but her roommates are not there anymore. She could swear she already saw Jackie and Aurora reading on the couch. She gets up from the dining chair, heading to the door.

She expected to see Bryce behind it. It might also be Phoebe, or Danny, or maybe even Farley. But it was someone she did not expect at all: the subject of her woes, none other than Rafael.

“Raf? What are you doing here?” Casey asks, noting the bouquet of flowers he was holding.

“Getting my girl.” Rafael gives her a smile. “Uh- trying, at least. I know we still have plenty to talk about.”

Casey can only let out a soft laugh with all the thoughts she was just having. She knows it can only mean that he and Sora broke up, and while he is very welcome right now she also knows nothing about this will be easy. But she’ll be damned if she lets him go one more time.

“Come in, Raf.”

Sunday evening.

Dinner.

They both agreed that they were going to take things slow. So this is not a date, just a simple dinner, Casey reminds herself despite their holding hands.

She is looking down at her hand intertwined with Rafael’s, while he is not letting his eyes leave her face. At the moment he is just staring at her forehead, but he does not want to stop looking at her beauty, as if she will disappear if he does.

“It’s a little funny, isn’t it? You took me here on our first date but we’re also here on our first not-date.” Casey finally meets Rafael’s eyes again, and the excitement in them as their gazes meet is now hard to miss now that she is not just stealing a glance. She almost giggles at how attentive he is being, cheeks flushing yet again at his intense stare.

“Hold on… wasn’t our first date in a helicopter?” Rafael asks after a few seconds of being lost in Casey’s eyes.

“Well…no. Not the official one. You were on the job, and I was too, technically.” Casey reasons.

“Not the official--” He trails off and gapes in dramatic disbelief. “You think I bring just any doctor with me for a helicopter ride around town?”

Casey laughs softly. “That’s- okay, that’s a good point. I really appreciated knowing about your uncle and your love for the community in that quote-unquote date. But…I’ve always thought that our first dinner is much more special. You really went out of your way to cheer me up.”

“From the moment we met I’ve had this voice in my head telling me I had to do what I could to make you happy. I’m glad I listened and continued to.” Rafael smiles. “Until- well, you know.” He sighs softly, frowning a little.

“Hey,” she gives his hand a squeeze. “Sora was your first love; I understand that now. And it’s normal for everyone to have baggage from their exes, you know? What is weird, actually, is if you didn’t.” She grins, trying to keep it light, but his face still expressed guilt.

“It’s no excuse. Look at us now, I’ve only hurt you both.” He frowns deeper, but also takes her other hand in his. “I promise you, Casey, I’ll do everything to make it up to you. I know we still have to figure a lot of things out, but--” he swallows, taking a few moments to himself, gathering courage. “I love you, Casey. I know and I’m sorry it’s a little too late to realize that, but I do. I assure you I’ll do better by you.”

Casey can feel her chest tightening. This got very intense very quickly, and her feelings are getting the best of her. Just how often did she fantasize this exact moment? She worried for a second that maybe this is one of the many scenarios her brain came up with, but the warmth of Rafael’s hands around hers is all too real. His scent, his cologne, his shampoo. He’s here.

She cannot speak a word, nor think a thought; her mind overwhelmed because the man she thought she would never get to hold like this again is right in front of her, telling her that he loves her too. Not wasting any more time, she grabs his face and kisses him.

When Rafael broke up with Casey, she was not able to give him a final kiss. She barely remembers the last time they shared a passionate kiss, but she is absolutely certain right now that this kiss puts all their other kisses to shame. Yes, this second first kiss is even better and more exciting than the one they shared in a free fall from a thousand feet up in the air.

Their feelings poured into the kiss are obviously pained but there is also excitement and it is completely full of love. In short, perfectly intense. It feels…right, and Rafael is sure he will never again doubt staying by Casey’s side.

He pulls away, also holding her face with a hand, grinning as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. He has never felt this way about anyone in his life ever, even with Sora then and now. His mind keeps on repeating how absolutely sure he is about Casey.

Not knowing what his too-happy smile meant, Casey makes a small face. “I’m sorry, I know we said this wasn’t a date--”

Their mouths meet again in a kiss, this time Rafael initiates, and it is her turn to grin as they pulled away. “Okay, I’m still not sure if that means this was totally a date, but for the record, I love you, too.”

He smiles despite his heart skipping a beat. God, how crazy is he about her? It was almost embarrassing, but she loves him back. Despite everything, she loves him, and he loves her. That is the only thing that matters.

“I love you, Casey.” he repeats.

“And I love you, Rafael. So much.”

[mypassionfortrash]

Nothing Serious (Part Ten)

SUMMARY: Roger’s divorce comes through, but he can’t seem to figure out why he isn’t more happy about it. Until he realises exactly what his life’s been missing.

Roger Taylor x Reader; Modern AU; Strictly 18+

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NOTES: One more part to go! Thank for reading, and if you’ve enjoyed this fic, please share!

Roger was a great mood. 

The sun swam in the brilliant blue mid-morning sky. He had just left the love of his life in bed, still in a post-orgasmic mess. And today was the day he had been waiting for.

Today, Queen would head into their recording studio to record their twelfth album.

Nothing could get to him or throw him off kilter as he skipped down the stairs, taking three at a time like he was a man in his twenties. And then he got to the lobby. 

Something caught his eye as he sauntered past the mailboxes. A flash of crimson.

Someone had mail. And he had a funny idea of who it was. Every other apartment in the building was leased out to holidaymakers and businessmen whenever they were in town. Every apartment except Roger’s. He owned his and when he visited Montreux, he always had his mail rerouted. With a pang of dread, he gave the mailboxes a double take. That little red flag stood loud and proud next to his apartment number.

Roger groaned and shuffled over, slipping his key into the lock. There was one letter; he grabbed it and instantly recognised the emblem on the envelope. His solicitor.

His heart raced as he slipped his fingers underneath the seal. He walked and read, eyes batting over the page at a rate of naughts. His whole body tensed with every word until he reached the one, all-important paragraph. The outcome.

‘Ms. Beyrand has agreed to settle the divorce at no further inconvenience to Mr Taylor and requires no alimony in return. Therefore, my client, Mr R. M. Taylor, and his former spouse, Ms Beyrand, should be considered legally divorced.’

‘Legally divorced,’ Roger mumbled with an awe-struck smile on his lips. He was – finally – legally divorced.

He felt a strange mix of optimism and relief as he walked along the promenade towards the casino-slash-recording studio. But those emotions collided with the realisation that he had wasted a whole decade of his life married to the wrong person. 

Truth be told, it played all day.

“You’re looking awfully spaced out, Rog. You alright?” Brian fussed.

Roger didn’t take it in the kind and caring way Brian meant it. Instead, he just took offence. He squared off his shoulders and furrowed his brows. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked.

“You just seem distracted. It’s not that girlfriend of yours is it?”

“Mate, just focus on your fucking solos alright? Maybe cut them down a bit,” Roger snarked.

“Oh, he’s just being menstrual, Brian!” Freddie exclaimed over the intercom; he was sitting behind the controls with their producer, Dave.

Dave grimaced at Freddie’s comment. He was a good friend of Roger’s, and knew how to talk him down in this kind of environment. “Why don’t we do one more take, Roger, and then you can head off for the day?” Or so Dave thought.

That only incensed Roger more, earning a barrage of drumsticks being lobbed at the plexiglass that divided the two rooms in the poky upstairs studio. “Fuck off,” Roger spat. “Get that on tape? Did you?”

Everyone in the studio, right down to the engineer’s assistant, rolled their eyes. It wasn’t uncommon for Roger to become hysterical in the studio, but this was completely out of the blue. There were no precursory arguments, or ‘constructive criticism’ to pre-warn everyone of Roger’s impending outburst. It just came.

“Roger?” Freddie implored.

“Oh fucking hell, what is it now, Fred?”

“I just want this album to be ok,” Freddie said solemnly.

Roger’s expression softened, picking up the sad nuance in Freddie’s tone. “And it will be. We’ve got good songs.”

“But I need us to be a family, Rog.”

“We are a family Fred.”

“This isn’t going to last forever and I just want us to have a good fucking time, do you understand? We won’t be doing this forever,” Freddie continued, seemingly trying to psyche himself up to deal with the next few weeks. 

Freddie wasn’t exactly the leader in Queen; he wouldn’t accept that mantle. But when Freddie threw down the gauntlet like this, it was right and normal for everyone else in the band to fall in line.

Roger wandered around the live room, gathering up his projectile drumsticks, then settled back behind his kit. “Right. Understood, Fred. Let’s go for another take.”

“Go for it,” Dave said.

Try as he might, Roger just couldn’t shake the feelings that flooded his brain that morning. Every time he tried to make progress in the studio, or even in terms of shifting his thoughts away from the divorce, something seeped its way back into the forefront of his mind like a rapidly advancing disease. And so, unlike anything Roger had ever done before, he missed a beat. And then another. And soon enough, the entire song ran away from him in spectacular fashion, causing the volcano of emotions inside him to bubble over. Not in his usual fiery brand of blonde-haired, blue-eyed rage, but in a watery tirade of tears and expletives. Tears rolled thick and fast down Roger’s rosy cheeks. He was proud; he darted towards the bathroom and holed himself up in the grotty cubicle. 

He threw his head down between his knees, letting the tears splatter on to the floor, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to make sense of why, after getting rid of the worst mistake of his life, he felt like his life was so uncertain and unfulfilled. Try as he might, the answer didn’t pop right out at him. And he just grew more and more annoyed with himself because of it.

Roger lost track of how much time he spent inside the filthy, shabby little cubicle with blood-red walls, until there was a gentle knock at the door. 

“Go away!” he sulked.

“Roger,” Brian began, “I’m sorry I upset you. I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but we’re here for you, ok?”

Roger groaned. The family talk was the last thing he needed right now. So he stayed quiet, hoping that his bandmates would soon lose interest and work on their album without him. But no. Another voice muffled through the layer of wood separating Roger from the rest of the studio. This time it was Deacy.

“Yeah, you might want to come out. We can’t really make an album if we don’t have a drummer.”

“I’m prepared to fill in though!” Freddie piped up.

In unison, for once in their careers, Brian and Deacy who were always at loggerheads with each other exclaimed a booming, “NO!”

This gleaned a hollow laugh from Roger as he realised how lucky he was to have friends and bandmates like them. He leaned forward and unbolted the door, opening it, to reveal his three bandmates sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the door. “I just need a minute,” Roger said, wiping his eyes.

“You can talk to us, you know,” Brian urged. “We’ll understand.”

“Fuck, we’ve been through everything together,” Freddie laughed. “What is it, dear?”

Roger sighed and wondered where to begin. How to describe what he was feeling. Everything he was feeling. “The divorce came through today.”

“You should be celebrating then!” Freddie said, bursting with impatience at the prospect of a party. The man could smell hilarity a mile out. 

“That’s the thing,” Roger began, “I’m happy about it. But at the same time…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“You did spend ten years with Dom, though. That’s a long time,” Deacy said.

“Yeah, but I’m not even unhappy about that. It’s just that I’ve got nothing to show for it.”

Brian narrowed his eyes, clicking on to what Roger meant, before even Roger understood. “Kids? Rog, that’s not the be and end all.”

“But Dom didn’t want kids, and I did,” he mused in a small voice. “And now, my girlfriend’s… twenty-four. I don’t even know if that’s what she wants. What if when she’s ready, I’ll be an old man?” Roger’s eyes grew glassy again at the prospect. “What if I never have that?” he repeated, looking around at his bandmates.

“Have you told her this?” Freddie asked.

Deacy waved his hands to halt the conversation right there for him to interject. “You’ve known this girl how long now? And you’re just going to go back to the flat and be like, ‘hey do you want to have my babies, push me around in a wheelchair and eventually scatter my ashes?’ Are you being serious here?”

“Well, they need to have that conversation; it’s healthy. And it saves any misunderstanding in the long run,” Brian reasoned, but somehow condescended.

“It’s a good way to spook her right out of her skin, that’s what it bloody well is,” Freddie said. 

Roger sat on the toilet and watched his bandmates bicker over how Roger should broach the subject with his girlfriend, his mouth hanging open in a way that made him resemble a dead fish. All while the plan in his head took shape. “That’s it,” he smiled. “I’ve got it.”

His bandmates hushed their bickering as soon as it started and looked at the drummer. “What have you got?” Deacy asked.

“I know how to tell her,” he said, getting to his feet. He power walked away from the trio, calling back, “Just finish the bloody song alright?! I’ve got work to do!”

Roger’s heart pounded twice as fast as his feet hit the pavement, walking at the speed of light down the promenade. Every so often, he’d break out into a run, but quickly slowed down as he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention. He was going back to the flat. 

From the street, he could look up and spy you, sitting out in the late afternoon sun, with a glass of wine in your hand. The sight made his insides flutter. He couldn’t wait for the lift. Not when the love of his life had been sighted and she was within touching distance. He could practically smell your perfume hanging in the winding stairwell up. He breathed deep. He broke a sweat. And then he finally arrived at the flat.

“Darling?” Roger called, announcing himself in the hallway. He waited nervously at the door, rubbing his hands together like it was a chilly winter’s day. This was anything but; the sweat beading down his forehead said that much.

“What are you doing back?” you asked from the balcony. “I thought you were at the studio?”

“I was,” Roger shrugged realising that you weren’t coming through to greet him. Instead, he followed your voice. “But I needed to see you.”

Your glass of chardonnay had barely touched your lips, but that sentence stopped you right in your tracks. You narrowed your eyes and glanced up at Roger who was lingering at the door frame. “Why? You could see me tonight. I could wait up.”

Roger sighed and sat down at the table, opposite you.

This filled you with dread; the stomach-dropping kind of dread that threaten to have you hunched over the toilet in seconds.

Then he flashed those baby blues of his at you. “My divorce came through today,” he said.

“That’s it?” you shrugged. “I thought something was wrong. Let me get you a glass and we can celebrate,” you rambled, rising to your feet. Less than a foot from the door, Roger seized your hand and pulled you back.

“We do need to talk, though,” Roger said.

Only now did you notice how glassy Roger’s eyes looked beneath his sunglasses. You turned to him and slipped them to the top of his head, exposing the sparkling, red eyes that gave away how he really felt about the situation. And it caught you off guard. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Roger admitted. “That’s the worst part.”

“You look like you need a drink for other reasons now,” you commented.

He nodded in response and twirled the bottle of chardonnay in his hand, studying the label; gauging how wrecked he’d get if he guzzled the remainder. “Something a bit stronger, too.”

“I’m on it.”

Safely out of Roger’s view, you braced yourself against the counter top. 

It worried you – Roger being so cryptic. It also worried you how much you had given up to be here with him. Your job. Your friends. Your life. All just to be with him. 

More fool you, though. 

You had only just met the bloke and you were carrying on like he was the love of your life. 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you bowed your head. This felt like a familiar theme in your relationship with Roger and you couldn’t be sure whether or not it was a bad thing. In any other relationship, this was bound to be a massive raging red flag; the amount of times one can drag the other to the brink of heartbreak, just with a few words and a little bit of miscommunication. All you wanted was to be happy. Your brain repeated that like a mantra that didn’t improve anything. It just made you shake as wave after wave of sorrow tugged at your body.

“You still with me, darling?” Roger called through.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t let him see the tears. But it was too late. 

You took so long to respond that Roger appeared at the door. When he saw you, his entire figure sank. “Oh my darling,” he sighed, taking you in his arms. “What are these for?”

“Because you made me think we were done, there,” you whimpered into Roger’s shirt, letting your mascara fray outwards in dark, inky pools. “And I’ve given up so much to be with you and I didn’t know if this was because of me or something I’d done. You should be happy that it’s over – your marriage.” You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Why aren’t you happy?”

Roger rubbed his hands up and down your arms and spoke wistfully. “Because, darling, I’ve wasted an entire fucking decade of my life on someone who never ever loved me. And I’m not even sure I’ve grown as a person because it. I’ve almost certainly missed out on everything I wanted in terms of relationships and settling down. I’m old now. And I’m going to be even older when we finally decide to start a family or settle down. If we decide to do that.” By the time Roger had finished  that portion of his monologue, his fingers had laced with yours. “I don’t want to be an old dad,” he laughed.

You swept Roger’s hair back, exposing his aged, furrowed brow. He looked completely serious, unlike his usual self. “Is that why you’re so unhappy?” you asked.

Roger nodded, tugging his lower lip between his teeth. 

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arms around his torso, drinking in his scent. You propped your chin on his chest and gazed at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. “I love you, Roger Taylor,” you reassured. “I’ve given up everything for you.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, gathering the rest of your thoughts. “Maybe not marriage though, because… that didn’t work the first time. But I’m in this for life, just so you know. Whatever you want.”

Roger softened. A look of pure love made him younger in an instant. “Do you mean that?”

“Always.”

“And you want kids?”

“Yeah. But don’t let me become one of those annoying yummy mummy Facebook cretins. I want them to have normal lives, ok? No weird names. No nannies. No private schools. Understand?”

The lines at the edges of Roger’s eyes extended outwards as he beamed: “Understood!”

“How soon can we do this?” you asked, snaking your hands up over Roger’s chest and draping them around his shoulders.

You and Roger had decided to go out for dinner to celebrate his divorce. Somewhere fancy by the lakeside, under a canopy of twinkling golden stars. 

Just you and him and no one else. 

You sat, not on opposite sides of the table, but beside each other so you could stare out at the lake as you planned your future.

“How long do you think Queen will go on for?” you asked, leaning your head on Roger’s shoulder.

“As long as we can darling,” he said. “Why?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering when I get to go out on tour with you,” you said, trying to avoid the point you itched to make. “Must be nice to travel the world.”

Roger moved away from you, narrowing his eyes and draining his glass. “Well, you’ll be coming out next year, surely?”

“Where do you think we’ll be off to?”

“Fred’s completely against going to America for obvious reasons. I don’t think they’re as accepting over there as they used to be. So probably not America.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“We might have too, thought. That’s the thing. It’s  a case of convincing Fred.”

You gave a quiet laugh; you didn’t know Freddie very well, but you had a feeling he could be just as stubborn as Roger. Meaning that no one and nothing could convince him of anything when his mind was made up about something.

“I reckon we’ll go all over Europe; that’s a dead cert,” Roger rambled. He looked beautiful, leaning back in his chair and scratching his neck, groaning like an exhausted lion. Just a sliver of his soft tummy peeked out from underneath his shirt and you couldn’t resist leaning into him to scratch it. Then he continued. “Ever been to Paris?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been to the usual. Spain,” you groaned. “Tenerife.”

“You’ve been to Ibiza, too,” he reminded, a warm smile on his lips.

“Oh yeah!” you giggled. “Tell me more about Paris, Roggie.”

Roger laughed to himself, closing his eyes. “It’s a surprise.”

You whined. “Well, tell me where else we’re going then. So I know what to pack!”

“It’s a year away, darling.”

“Just give me a tiny clue,” you pressed, holding up your thumb and forefinger to illustrate the size of the clue you desired.

But then, interrupting the tranquil scene, a gaggle of loud voices burst into the pop-up restaurant. They were all too familiar, much to Roger’s disappointment. “Shit,” he spat. He shot you an apologetic look and stood up, stretching out his arms to welcome his bandmates and their partners.

Freddie and Jim, Brian and Anita, and Deacy and Veronica all dragged seats up around your table, and began chatting to Roger. They congratulated him on his divorce and asked him what was next. All the while, Roger looked utterly bashful as he grasped your hand and gave it a series of reassuring squeezes. 

You wondered whether he was trying to communicate with you in morse code. You laughed to yourself at the thought. You didn’t know morse code; but Roger was smart, he probably did. You squeezed back. 

Thankfully, the attention turned away from him. He was free to talk to you again; getting his undivided attention against the backdrop of mindless, half-drunk chatter. He turned to face you. “When are we heading home, Kitten?” Roger half-whispered, stroking your hair.

“Getting impatient or is it past your bedtime?” you quipped.

Roger smiled and shook his head. Then looked back at you with a lustful glint in his eye. “I can’t wait to get you out of that bloody dress,” he teased, his hand finding its way to your thigh underneath the tablecloth. “And this is boring.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” you whispered moving closer to his neck. “I think we should try and get home now, Daddy.”

“What’s our strategy, Kitten?” Roger asked mischievously.

“Well, I had the seafood. I could pretend to be sick. And then…” you trailed off, jerking your head in the direction of the flat. 

“That might work,” Roger said, kissing your jaw.

Just as the moment escalated in heat, the sound of someone obnoxiously clearing their throat cut through your moment, forcing you and Roger to turn your heads towards the group that had so rudely decided to crash your date.

“What?” Roger asked, annoyance cutting through his tone. 

Deacy piped up. “It’s Veronica and I’s anniversary tomorrow evening. We were hoping we could do some celebrating. But we need a babysitter.”

Roger narrowed his eyes, pointing vaguely around the table to his friends and their partners. “Why can’t any of you?”

“I don’t want little Robert keeping us up with his crying and everything,” Freddie said. “You know how scratchy my voice gets when I don’t get enough sleep.”

Brian was next to offer up an excuse. “Anita and I were going to go out to the vineyard over there for a couple of nights.”

Roger straightened up in his seat as he considered offering his babysitting services. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, you were quick to interrupt.

“What about tonight’s babysitter, Deacy?” you asked. “Can’t you get them to babysit tomorrow?”

“She says she can’t,” Veronica explained. “She has exams at uni and she needs to be at all her lectures on weekdays. We tried.”

You and Roger gave a simultaneous sigh and looked at each other. “Guess we’re gonna have to do it,” you shrugged.

“Guess we do,” Roger agreed.

“Alright, we’ll do it,” you conceded, driving daggers through Deacy and Veronica in your mind. You didn’t want to but they didn’t leave you with much of a choice.

“He can sleep in the spare room,” Roger continued.

“And we’ll be on our best behaviour,” you added.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to call everyone up and cancel the orgy we had planned. Shame, really. I was looking forward to it,” Roger remarked.

The joke didn’t land well. But it wasn’t far from the truth. Every night since you arrived in Montreux, you and Roger would spend your evenings in bed together, figuring out all the new and debauched tricks he could teach you. And figuring out what you liked and what he could do to please you. He loved to please. 

But the night after your ruined dinner date, you and Roger flitted around the flat in a frantic attempt to baby proof the place. Barricading the doors to all the balconies, locking away your restraints and sex toys, and removing all alcohol from your lower cupboards in the kitchen. Roger looked out of breath, standing in the middle of the living room with his hands on his hips, trying to find even the slightest thing that baby Robert might get hold of and hurt himself with. “Do you reckon we got everything?” he asked, squinting at you.

You shrugged. “I’m more concerned with how we keep him occupied all night.”

“Fuck. Do you know, I’ve never had to look after a baby before?” Roger said. “How do we do that?”

“I think you start by taking the word fuck out of your vocabulary, darling,” you said wandering through to the living room and wrapping your arms around him.

“And what do we feed them?”

“Something soft? I don’t know. Does he have teeth yet?” you asked. “When do they get teeth?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t even know. I think he does. Last time I saw him he bit me.”

“Ah, right. Great. He’s a biter.”

“He’s weird. He looks like Deacy,” Roger said, flopping down on the couch.

You followed suit, straddling his lap. “Do you think we’ll be good at this?” you asked, running your hands up and down Roger’s chest. “Looking after a kid? I don’t even think either of us are grown up enough if I’m honest.”

“We probably aren’t, darling,” Roger sighed, giving your thighs a squeeze. “But we didn’t really have much choice did we?”

You laughed quietly. “I mean, for real, Roger. A baby of our own.”

Roger closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to run away with him, wondering what that might be like. He wasn’t going to lie, he loved the idea of being a dad. And if he was going to do it, it would have to be with you. “It’d be different if it was ours,” Roger sighed.

You let your own imagination delve into that thought, conjuring up images of Roger playing with a squad of blonde, feral kids that were undoubtedly his own. He’d be fantastic. Warm and wise, fun and fearless. You wanted that. But you couldn’t help but feel like your relationship was on shaky ground for the foreseeable. You’d have to see what next year’s tour meant for you.

“When do you reckon you’d want to…” Roger trailed off.

“When we’re ready. After the tour next year?”

Roger’s eyes flicked open. “That sounds good.”

“There’s a lot we need to figure out when you’re on tour.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

He nodded. He already knew the answer to that, but sometimes he needed to hear it for himself. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“You’re gonna do the hard part,” Roger laughed. “Can’t be easy pushing a watermelon out of a small hole.”

“Roger!” you squealed, whacking his chest. “That’s disgusting!”

“That’s exactly what it is!” Roger retorted.

Interrupting your argument, the buzzer on the intercom sounded, notifying you that your tiny guest had arrived. Roger sprang to his feet and turned to you. “I’ll get it! You just see if there’s anything else Robert might hurt himself on while he’s on his way up.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Roger,” you called as he left the room.

Out in the hall, Roger answered the intercom and buzzed Deacy and Veronica up to the flat.

You stayed put, wandering around the open space inside the living room, looking out at the early evening sunshine. You folded your arms and found yourself drawn to the window. The sun looked glorious. Deacy and Veronica had picked a fantastic night to celebrate their anniversary. You wondered where they planned on going. If you and Roger hadn’t been imposed upon, you knew you’d be sitting out on the street at Funky Claude’s – the pair of you quaffing overpriced cocktails and watching the people flit down the street in a midsummer daze. Bliss, you thought; far away from having to look after a pair of strangers’ child. Maybe you weren’t cut out for being a mother? You knew deep down that you wanted it, but you were still trying to figure out what was an acceptable age to stop giving your friends a bottle of whisky and a wire coat hanger as a congratulatory gift for getting themselves knocked up. You also balked at baby updates from them and couldn’t fathom why the vast majority of your friends ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ over babies. Maybe you’d be a crap mother after all? That worried you. Especially after the weighty commitment you made to Roger.

So lost in your own woes, you hadn’t noticed Deacy, Veronica and their tiny terror entering your home. You had your back to the door, travelling away at a hundred miles an hour on the stress express.

“Darling?” Roger sang. “The Deacons are here.”

You glanced over your shoulder and, realising that the family had indeed arrived in all their finery, you turned to them. 

They were a humble pair. You would never have known that Deacy was a millionaire. He looked like the stereotypical industrious tightwad, you thought as you hugged and kissed the couple politely on the cheek and wished them well on their life sentence together. And when the niceties were over, your eyes searched the room for little Robert. “Where is he?” you cooed in a fake tone. “Where is the little guy?” You did your best to plaster on a wide, manic smile, that didn’t exactly sit right with you, but clearly hit the spot with the anxious parents. 

“Here I am!” the three-year-old called, blustering into the room, clutching a large dinosaur toy. “I’m here! I’m here!” He continued, finding his way to your leg and clinging to it for dear life.

You patted his head, and beamed down at him. “Well, we’re going to have lots of fun, aren’t we?”

“Yeah!”

Roger began to usher the couple from the flat, fearing that they might miss their dinner reservation. “He’s in good hands,” he reassured. “We’ll feed him at six and he’ll be in bed by seven.”

“And you’ll make sure you tire him out? He gets a bit restless in the hour leading up to bedtime. He sometimes won’t want to have his bath. Just make sure he’s tired when you do,” Veronica wittered.

Roger laughed, “He’ll be fine! You’ve left enough for him to be getting on with. Now, both of you, go, before you miss your reservation!”

“Fine, fine!” Veronica caved, pulling Deacy away by his arm. “We’ll pick him up in the morning. Hopefully we won’t be too hungover when we get him and we’ll try not to be late!”

The door finally closed leaving you and Roger solely in charge of Robert. In truth, you didn’t think he was going to be a problem. He sat on the sofa with his dinosaur and sent it zooming through their air while you and Roger watched him like he was a wild animal, and you were too afraid to spook him. Every now and then, you and Roger would lock eyes from opposite sides of the room. Soft looks that made you desperate to have each other. Suddenly all of those doubts about settling down together melted away.

“Robert, dear?” you began, sitting down beside the small boy. “Do you want a little drink of juice and a snack?”

Robert didn’t take his eyes off the dinosaur. Mumbling a quiet, “yeah.”

You looked up at Roger, exchanging confused looks; little Robert might prove to be hard work, still.

“How about we watch a film?” you suggested.

“Sounds nice,” he squeaked.

“What do you wanna watch, buddy?” Roger asked, giving the small boy his snacks and sitting down next to him. “Hm?”

“Don’t know.”

You and Roger looked at each other again, worried about how to keep him preoccupied.

“How about the Lion King?” you suggested.

“Yeah.”

Roger puffed out his cheeks and grabbed the remote, putting the film on. By his estimation, it would take you up to dinner time. And then bath time. And then bed. And you were free after that – an easy run at this parenting malarky, or so he thought. 

You and Roger enjoyed the first hour of the film before Robert piped up. “I have to pee.”

Half-asleep, Roger propped himself up. “Right, pal, come on. I’ll show you where the toilet is.”

“I’ll get dinner on,” you suggested. “How about chicken nuggets and chips?”

“Pee first!” Robert squeaked, tugging at Roger’s jeans.

“Fair enough,” you sighed as Roger and Robert disappeared  down the hall. 

Getting to your feet, you wandered over to the freezer. This was a staple when you were a kid.

You dumped the chips and the chicken nuggets onto a tray and then stuck the oven on. 

Robert was sure to like this; it had to be a winner to get the Deacon boy on side. But he was so like his dad that you could never tell if you were coming or going with him. Three years old and he already had that trait down to pat. 

You bunged the tray into the oven and glanced towards the cupboard full of wine glasses.

Roger and Robert sauntered back into the room and threw themselves back on to the sofa. There was only half an hour left of the film. Enough time to cook dinner. An hour, tops, and he’d be in bed.

You could do this.

“Did you find the toilet, okay?” you asked Robert. 

He nodded. 

“I’ve just put the dinner on. Chicken nuggets and chips? I even got the dinosaur chicken nuggets. Your daddy told me you liked those the best.”

“They’re my favourite animal!” Robert said, perking up. “I love velociraptors.”

Roger pondered for a moment, playing along. “I think I like t-rexes better. They’re bigger and they have funny little arms.”

“I always feel bad for them. Think of all the things they can’t do,” you said.

“Have you ever seen Jurassic Park?” Roger asked Robert with a fun look in his eye. “I think you’d love it. There are lots and lots of dinosaurs in it.”

Robert smiled and shook his head. “Can we watch that?” he asked, turning around and deferring to you. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” you began, wracking your brain for all of the non-child-friendly things in the film. You weren’t about to let a child in your care go to bed straight after having seen a film that gave you nightmares when you saw it as a child. “It’s a bit scary for you, Robert.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” Robert smiled, looking at Roger for back up.

“I mean, it’s not that bad is it, really?” Roger said. “He can eat his dinner and watch it. And then bath time should give him a little bit to calm down if it gets too scary.”

“Please!” Robert pleaded, clasping his hands together and begging you with his wide hazel eyes. “I won’t tell mummy and daddy, I swear.”

Sure, it scuppered your plans for wine, but maybe you could sneak some if he was so engrossed in the film. You’d have to look after him for longer before he went to bed. Then there was the possibility of nightmares while you were busy getting drunk and doing god knows what with Roger in the middle of the night. Is this what parenting entailed? If so, you could safely count yourself out of the game for the foreseeable future. 

But the little boy looked adorable, presenting his dinosaur to Roger.

“Is there any of these in the film, uncle Roger?” he asked.

“Well, if Auntie Grump lets us watch it, we can find out for ourselves, can’t we, pal?” he said, taking the dinosaur and jumping it along the coffee table.

You dropped your arms down by your sides and gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, alright! But you need to eat all your dinner, and be in bed on time, ok? No excuses!” you said, wagging your finger at Robert and Roger. You shot Roger an especially stern look.

Roger put the film on while you kept an eye on dinner. He had no problem connecting with the boy; of course. He was Roger. Everyone and everything gravitated towards his warm and inviting nature. 

They huddled together on the sofa, with Robert’s dinosaur, and watched in amazement at how real all the dinosaurs on screen seemed.

“Do you think they used real dinosaurs for this?” Robert asked in awe.

“I think getting real dinosaurs might have been a bit expensive,” Roger explained.

Truth be told, Roger was going to make a fantastic father and that, in itself drove you insane. You almost felt guilty for still having reservations about this, seeing how much Roger enjoyed looking after Robert. The soft look on his face as he carried Robert through to the spare room when he fell asleep during the film made you want to jump on Roger there and then. 

But he looked exhausted as he wandered back into the living room. He hadn��t done anything except chat to the small boy for a few hours. But it was enough to make him collapse back on to the couch and breathe a sigh of relief as he closed his eyes.

“You’re really good with him,” you said, taking your place beside him.

“I tried as well as I could,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you even closer to him.

You patted his chest, congratulating him for getting through the evening. “Kind of makes me think we should get some practice in,” you laughed.

“Yeah?” Roger asked, widening his eyes. 

You nodded and sat up breaking away from his embrace. “But first, I think we need some wine.”

“Wine would be lovely.”

Roger watched you over the back of the sofa as you opened the fridge and plucked out a perfectly-chilled bottle of prosecco. Even though his lids hung heavy over his eyes, you knew he felt exactly the same way as you. He couldn’t focus on the bottle or the wine; his eyes were glued to you and the way that your body moved as you sashayed back over to him, swaying your hips as you carried two glasses of golden bubbly goodness back to the sofa.

He took his glass and held it up. “Well, cheers to baby making I guess,” he smiled.

“To baby making,” you agreed, clinking your glass against his and knocking it back. Your body relaxed in an instant.

“That dress looks nice on you, by the way,” Roger commented, thumbing at the material over your thighs. “Really shows off those lovely hips of yours. I love it.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks, feeling like he had you under a microscope. “Thanks. You look… like the perfect dad?” you responded, squinting one eye, unsure of the point or the tone you were trying to go for by giving him that compliment. 

“That supposed to be a compliment?” Roger asked, swallowing the last of his wine.

“I like my men old and refined, so yes,” you smiled.

Roger grinned and glanced over to the fridge. “Why don’t we take the bottle to bed?”

You sat up straight; heart pounding, stomach fluttering. “Won’t Robert notice?”

“He’s out cold.”

“But what if he has nightmares and walks in?”

“We just tell him it’s a special grown up cuddle. My mum told me that all the time.”

“Yeah, so did mine but it didn’t stop it traumatising me,” you giggled. “We’ll need to be really quick.”

Roger drew his calloused fingertips underneath your jaw. “What’s the point in being quick, Kitten?” he purred. “It takes time to do things properly. Don’t you want to enjoy it?” He was dangerously close to your lips. So close you could practically taste the wine on his.

You froze feeling a surge of adrenaline course through your veins. Your voice shook. But you gave in. “Yes.”

Roger’s hand skirted underneath the hemline on your dress, caressing your thigh as he spoke to you. “So should we take the wine through to the bedroom and get started, Kitten?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sighed, leaning in to plant a firm, lingering kiss on Roger’s lips. “You get the wine.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, springing to his feet. But he had to play catch up with you. You were already in the centre of the bedroom, shrugging out of your dress, letting it pool around your feet. When he caught a glimpse of you standing there in just a set of skimpy lingerie, he stopped in his tracks, clutching the wine and glasses in a shaking grip. “Thought we were going slow, Kitten?”

You glanced over your shoulder, purring, “Is this too much for you, Daddy?”

This left Roger at a loss for words. All he could do was watch as you slunk over to the edge of the bed and sat down, patting the space beside you. Beckoning him over.

He complied, handing you a glass and filling it. Then filling his own. You could hear his breath wavering in his chest and he almost spilled some wine as his hands trembled.

“Drink up, Daddy,” you reassured.

Roger downed his glass and hastily sat it down on the floor.

“Do you need something to help you relax?” you asked, trailing your fingers down his chest. “Because I can help with that.”

“No, no, Kitten. Let me do all the work, please,” he gasped, slinking down on to the floor and settling on the carpet between your legs. His hands worked their way up your shins as he peppered  quick, eager kisses along the insides of your thighs. “You just sit there, drink your wine and look pretty,” he instructed, before moving on to the opposite thigh to lavish it with the same care and attention. “Let Daddy take care of you…”

Roger’s mouth was something akin to a religious experience. You relished the opportunity to have him planted squarely between your legs any chance you could get. You loved how hungry – ravenous – he became. He could never resist. It didn’t take him long before his fingers looped underneath the waistband of your underwear and yanked them down.

Finishing the rest of your wine, the glass drooped out of your hands and dampened the sheets with the dregs as you eased back.

Roger’s tongue worked at your folds, lapping away at them and gathering all the sweet, heady wetness he could find, groaning enthusiastically as he savoured every drop. He tugged and nipped at them, pulling them between his lips, sucking at the sensitive pink flesh until it swelled and tingled. He knew how to amp up the need you felt. His hands gripped at your bottom, adding another layer of delicious sensation to the mix and forcing you further on to his mouth, getting as close as he possibly could to make you writhe against his tongue as he dipped it inside you. 

You knew exactly what Roger was trying to do. He was trying to get you to cry out in pleasure, rippling his tongue inside you. Curling it in on itself. Fucking you. A precursor to the onslaught his cock was poised and ready to deliver when it came down to it. 

But you were so aware of the sleeping child in the next room. You clamped your hand over your mouth in a desperate bid to avoid giving Roger the rapturous praise he desired for stringing you out to the point of orgasm in minutes flat. Instead, you quietly quivered.

Roger’s tongue was dangerously close to your clit.

If he couldn’t get you to scream his name, he had to try a different tactic. 

Pursing his lips together and sucking on that little bundle of nerves, he flicked his tongue wildly over it at the same time. 

This was electric. 

That move had the intensity of a thousand wildfires being set ablaze all over your body, racing towards your cunt. It had you clawing at the sheets in no time.

But the kicker came when his fingers replaced his tongue, burying themselves inside you. One, two, three, four. Stretching you out close to your limit and pumping away in rapid, damp motions that would’ve completely given you away had you had adult company. Your body rocked in time to every single thrust, your cunt tightening around his hand more and more.

But you still couldn’t let go of your inhibitions.

It was too dangerous.

“Tell me how much you like it, Kitten,” Roger hummed.

“I fucking love it, Daddy,” you sighed in desperation. He just kept you in a mind numbing trance of being right at the very edge. And you wished with your entire being that you could just step off already. “I need to come so badly,” you whined.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?”

“I just can’t let go.”

Roger looked concerned as he shuffled up the bed towards you; so close that you caught your scent on him. “Are you ok?” he asked.

“I’m fine, I just can’t do this with the boy in the next room,” you sighed.

“That’s ok,” Roger whispered, nestling his face against your neck. “Slowly.”

“Slowly,” you agreed, wrapping your thighs around him and grabbing a fistful of his hair to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips.

His hips stirred against yours as the moment grew in intensity, your tongues lapping away at each other’s. Arms tangled and fingers raking through each other’s hair. Two bodies glued together, and moving as one. “I want you so much,” he murmured as he broke the kiss.

“Have me,” you smiled, kissing his nose. You tugged at one of the belt loops on his jeans. “But you’re gonna need to lose the clothes first.”

“Right, yes,” he said, stumbling backwards on to his feet. “Good idea.”

For some reason, Roger seemed nervous too. You his hands still shook as he fought to undo the buttons on his shirt and tug down the fly on his jeans. There was something arousing about watching him shed his clothes for you; soon enough, your own hand returned to that spot between your legs to try and finish the job Roger started.

He settled between your thighs again and looked down. Your hand was still working overtime – he loved to watch but only for so long.

The tip of his cock pressed deliciously up against your entrance. So inviting, given how swollen Roger’s cock was, leaking precum over your already dripping slit. You manoeuvred your hips, trying to grasp it, to suck it in, to coax him, but Roger wasn’t playing ball.

Instead, he pumped his hand around his length, reminding you of just how much he could fill you. 

Your pleasure-addled brain needed to have it. 

But he wasn’t giving you it. 

You let out a needy whine, coupled with a desperate, “Please.”

Roger laughed to himself, moving on to phase two of his teasing. 

Your hips might have been trembling wildly, but he still managed to slide his cock up and down over the length of your  cunt, making his cock slick and glistening with your juices.

You repeated another feeble plea. “Please, Roger fill me.”

“I will, Kitten, don’t worry,” he said softly, still teasing you in the most horrific and torturous way. “But first you need to tell me what exactly you want. What’s making you so desperate, Kitten?”

Your mind drew a blank and your hips clearly had no consideration for Roger’s line of questioning. All they wanted to do was seek his cock out and have him fuck you mercilessly, like an animal in heat. 

“What’s got you all riled up?” He repeated. “Use your words, Kitten.”

Your fingers still circled your clit, by now making you a complete and utter mess. 

He wasn’t going to get any sense out of you, that much was clear. 

But it didn’t stop him from trying. He slapped your hand away. Then, when you recoiled, he slapped your cunt. “Use your words, Kitten. You’re not getting my cock if you don’t.”

“Oh but Daddy…” you protested, rolling your hips. “I just want…” you couldn’t verbalise it. The urge inside you. The reason you were so frantic.

“You want me to pump a baby into you, Kitten, don’t you?” he said, replacing your fingers with his own.

God those words sent a shiver right through you in the best way. A growl rumbled in your chest as you arched your back against his efforts. “Mmm, please knock me up!”

“That wasn’t so hard,” he soothed. 

But nothing could prepare you for the savage way that his hips snapped into you, forcing a yelp from your lips. 

“You want me to knock you up? Hm, Kitten?” he asked, pressing his lips on to your neck to mark it up and claim you. 

“Oh god, yes.”

“Say it, for me, Kitten,” he scolded. “Tell me what you fucking want. I want you to beg for it,” he continued, pounding you into the mattress with his weight on top of you. “Just so I know you’re sure.”

Your brain was so fogged, but now that Roger had reminded you of why you were in this position, the words came more easily. “Knock me up, Daddy,” you whined. “I’m ready. I want it.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, kissing your jawline, a trail all the way up to your mouth. “You’re gonna be such a good mummy. So fucking sexy too. I can’t wait to see you grow and for everyone to know what I did to you.”

The way he talked was exactly what you needed to send you over the edge and you didn’t care who heard. Clutching at the sheets, you thought your entire soul was shaking as you hurtled through powerful convulsions and contractions that milked every single drop of come Roger could muster right into you.

You and Roger collapsed in a sweaty breathless heap together, with him still on top of you. Your brain tried to fathom what had just happened. 

It all became clear when Roger rolled off of you, and looked your way with the biggest, softest grin you had ever seen.

“Think that did the trick?” he asked, reaching sideways to pat your belly.

In between trying to catch your breath, you still had enough reserve to crack a joke. “You know, for someone who claims to have a biology degree, you have a shocking lack of understanding about human reproduction.”

Roger laughed, batting his hand through the air. “I’ve watched the Discovery Channel. It’ll be fine.”

“Better throw the rest of my pills out if we’re serious,” you said.

“Only if you really want to. I’m in no way wedded to the idea.”

“Yes you are.”

His rosy cheeks puffed out into a grin akin to a chubby cherub that you just couldn’t resist: “Maybe I am.”

[raretastes]

Thoughts on JeArmin ship page Wikia

Recently I been busy with my webtoon, so I forgot about my favorite stuffs in a moment. But whenever I got tired of the works, I recharge my energy with browsing anything about Jearmin. I love some fanfictions, I also love some art works, let’s talk about that next time, because right now I am going to share some thoughts I got when I browsed wikia page of my favorite ship.

I have the urge to share it, because well, I think some of what contains there is a bit exaggerated and can be misleading. Misleading in the way that... when someone is not following AoT and they wondering about JeArmin, and they read the wikia page, I’m pretty sure that person will got the wrong way about how Jean and Armin interacted in manga or anime. 

I love Jean-Armin relationship because they both guys. 

Yes, because they both are guys

since I cannot screenshot for unknown reason, I will just copy paste what I read from this link .. so, I hope it’s not annoying. Please be reminded that these are personal opinions, and if you annoyed by my personal opinions, or judge me for that, I have no problem. You can add more if you like ;) 

okay, here goes!

In the "sudden visitors" OVA Armin is in team with Jean and tries to help him beat Sasha in a cook off. When Armin breaks his leg he is unhappy that he can no longer be of use to Jean.

I had watched this OVA, it was fun, it was great. What I see from this scene is, Armin is a loyal friend, but he has his own moral code and standard. And he is the kind of person who is not supporting any act of cheating, that’s Armin’s integrity.

Yes, Armin did saying that he is unhappy that he cannot help Jean any further. But I had read somewhere, I kinda forget where did I watched or read it (it’s like AOT Junior High or small 4 panel comic about AOT), but it’s about Armin intentionally break his legs off to skip something he didn’t like. So, to me, this scene is about Armin leaving Jean in the most subtle and politest way. 

But duh! Breaking your own legs to leave someone? That’s kind of dark, Armin.

On their first scouting mission, Jean admits that Armin used to creep him out, but he has always believed in his abilities.

Yes! I love this scene, to me this scene shown Jean’s quality as a human. Jean was annoyed for Armin being “gay” to Eren, but it doesn’t blur his opinions. This shows how Jean can think logically and clearly. Sometimes when we judged someone bad, everything about them turned bad. Even when they do great things, we would see it as being malicious, Jean is far from that, and he kept believe in Armin more than any other comrades (I’m sure of it).

During the rematch between Eren and Annie, Jean and Armin are seen talking on the rooftop before working together to lead Annie into a trap. In the aftermath of the fight they have a couple scenes together, talking everything over.

That’s correct but... it’s not like they are kissing over there

Armin tries to protect Jean from a titan after he is knocked unconscious during the Scouts' operation to retrieve Eren. On their return back he and Jean are on horseback together.

Yesss!! I love this scene. When I saw this scene, I swore that I will stop following AOT if the author kill Jean. 

Armin is probably stronger than we think he is, how he managed to get Jean into horseback behind him remains mystery.

In the cabin, the two of them are shown together when Eren wakes up after remember Ymir and Bertholdt's conversation.

We just treasure every moment Armin and Jean are seeing together, aren’t we?

When Armin and Jean are disguised as Historia and Eren, Jean struggles to watch as one of their captors fondles Armin and makes him cry. Later when Levi instructs Armin to fix the man's gag, Jean does it for him to spare him any more distress.

My favorite scene. Yes, this scene shows them back to back. They got such adventures together. Mikasa was there, spying from the roof and she cares more if Armin’s disguised will be blown out, more than worrying about her childhood friend getting molested. Poor Armin

When Jean is about to be killed by one of Kenny's subordinates Armin shoots her to save his life, despite this going against his morals.

Love this scene also, especially in manga where Armin did looked like a boy with serious killing expression.

Jean and Armin are seen talking to each other and working together on Historia's orphan farm.

oh okay, another scene together... did something happened? Did someone said something sweet during the scene? Or kissing or holding hands perhaps? I haven’t watched this episode, just skip it right to the beast titan war.

Jean seems to place great faith in Armin as shown when he repeatedly turns to him for advice when their situation becomes dire during the Battle of Shiganshina.

In manga, this is heavily shown. But not very much in anime. What I like better about this scene is not about how Jean being dependent to Armin in vibes: “I need you, I am nobody, I can’t do anything, I need you!”, 

but instead, this vibes: “I trust you and your command. I know you need time to arrange things, and so I give you your break. Leave the rest to me, I got your back!” 

 I liked more when Jean took over the command when Armin is being turned down by the situation. Jean spares Armin some time to calmed himself down and helps Armin to avoid fatal mistake he almost made. This part showing how Jean and Armin is similar and can work together in leading and commanding. 

Because they both are guys.

When Bertholdt burns Armin, Jean cries at Armin's supposed death and is relieved and emotional at his revival.

no, he wasn’t crying. A drop of tear was seen, but not crying. Jean also did not cry on Marco’s funeral. Sad yes, but emotional no. Big NO. Jean is not easy to drip tears. I watched this and I read this too, anime and manga, Instead Eren is the one who cried, screamed, tantrums, and Mikasa is the most emotional upon Armin’s death (it was a very sad, desperate scream), and Connie was cried. They show more emotion than Jean.

Jean just being stunned as he watched how Armin got burned and like our regular father, nobody seems to know what’s on his mind.

But my best bet is, this is what Jean thinking about when he saw Armin’s burned body : 

1. He was stunned because he saw Armin as the savior of humanity, like Levi. A hope for humanity. He is counting on Armin. So when Armin is “dead”, but the war still going, it’s like an empty win. He basically just losing hope for humanity within the walls.

2. If anything about emotional, it’s probably guilt. Perhaps he thought that he forced Armin to think of something and it costs him his life. But judging how Jean is, I don’t think Jean would acting like it’s his responsibility. 

but I agree that Jean did feel relieved. Although I disagree about “emotional” because he was actually the least who shown emotion on Armin’s situation. (I’m not including Floch, he is on Erwin side, that’s why)

In Attack on Titan: Junior High!, Jean said, “Maybe I haven’t got a girlfriend because we’re always together.“ which means they always hang out and do that kind of stuff together

I know this scene might exist, but in which episode I can’t remember. But I have to rewatch this because I have to make sure what is the situation when he said that.

Okay that’s all my personal thoughts on Jearmin wikia page.

I was hoping to see more scene between Jean and Armin being partner and all, but it seems like Isayama likes Eremin better. Hey I’m  not being discouraging, just like Jean, I’m being honest. If you disagree, then no problem, not everybody loves honesty. :)

[captain-kingliamsqueen]

The First of Many - Until We Meet Again - Part 3

Pairing: Liam x MC

Summary: …DISTANCE MEANS SO LITTLE, WHEN SOMEONE MEANS SO MUCH!

When King Liam manages to break free from his Marriage to madeleine and takes a trip to new York for the biggest UN event of the century. What happens when his suitcase doesn’t make it to new York with him. when a stranger comes to his rescue to find appropriate clothing for the Event. What happens when he meets the woman of his dreams but she already has a home along with a Mutli-billion dollar business in New York. 

Word Count: 5,289

Masterlist

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 ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance! 

 After leaving Kayliegh’s house, Liam headed straight for the airport catching the guys just in time. Liam didn’t last until he got on the plane, he was only twenty minutes into the drive on the way to the airport when sent Kayliegh the first message. After that it was non-stop, he would laugh or chuckle every few minutes then type rapidly. Drake couldn’t get Liam to look up from his phone. They were ten minutes from beginning to land when Liam felt something hit the back of his head. This had been happening for a solid ten minutes.

“Drake…I will open that door and throw you off this plane If I feel one more grape hit the back of m-” before he could finish what he was saying he felt another one “Drake!!! You made me send the wrong gif!!!” he turned and glared at him

“do you hear yourself?!” Drake laughed “you’re like a twelve-year-old with a crush!”

“am not”

“are too”

“am not!”

“will the two of you just shut up!” Bertrand groaned

“keep out of it!!” the two turned on him, shouting at the same time…they turned to each other not saying a word then the two burst out laughing.

After landing the guys all headed back to the palace, then Bertrand and Maxwell headed to their estate whilst Liam and Drake headed inside. The two headed down the corridor towards their quarters, due to the time different and the duration of the flight, by the time they got back to the palace it was getting late, Liam's phone buzzed in his pocket indicating that Kayliegh had text him back, he pulled his phone out with a grin unlocking it and opening the message, just as they rounded the corner, Liam nearly bumped into Regina. “sorry” he mumbled as he carried on walking not looking up from his phone. “Liam?” she called…no reply. “what’s gotten into him?” she asked Drake. “his new…Lady friend” Drake smirked

“what?” she went bug eyed “walk with me Drake…who is she?” she asked as the two turned and started walking down the hallway.

“Kayliegh Reed” he smirked

“The Kayliegh Reed?”

“yes”

“was she at the UN party?”

“she was, but that’s not how they met, his suitcase got lost somehow it didn’t make it to New York, anyway, the night before the party we all went out for some drinks and dinner, we met this girl…Kayliegh’s Sister”

“I see” she smiled

“she overheard us talking and said she might be able to help…so we took her up on her offer, she took us to Kayliegh house…well it wasn’t much smaller than the palace, I wouldn’t call it a house” he laughed along with Regina “anyway, we got there, she agreed to help…Liam spent the night at her house, they stayed up all night putting together a suit for him”

“she made that suit in the pictures?” she asked

“yeah”

“he looked so regal!”

“I know right…anyway, I got a text about an hour before the ball from Liam, saying he was going to meet us at the venue and that he was bringing Kayliegh…she went home early a little upset about something, I don’t know, but Liam was insistent that he was going to make sure she was okay, he ended up staying the night, he said the two of them were talking and fell asleep on the sofa…I don’t know what happened between them…but he’s like a twelve-year-old with a crush Regina…he’s smitten…” he laughed “Maxwell thought he might just be on the rebound bound…but you should have seen the way he looked at her…”

“what did you think of her?”

“she was feisty…” he laughed “but she was sweet”

“well…she sounds it, to help a bunch of strangers like that”

“I think you would have liked her a lot.”

“maybe I’ll get to meet her someday soon” she smiled.

As much as Regina had made some bad choices over the past few years, she wanted Liam to be happy, she treated him like he was her own. Madeleine may have been her blood relative, but Regina knew she was bringing the crown to its knees, the public were noticing Liam's unhappiness. Regina had been Liam's confident on more than one occasion about what was going on with madeleine. She was the one that urged him to make a change if he wasn’t happy…he can’t be expected to rule a country if he’s unhappy all the time.

“Regina…what are you planning?” Drake smirked as they came to Regina’s quarters.

“oh…nothing” she laughed as she unlocked her door. she bid Drake goodnight then headed into her room.

Back in his room, Liam had changed into his nightwear, then climbed into bed before placing his laptop on his knee, he started sifting through documents and files he had to read.

By the time two months had past, Liam and Kayliegh hadn’t gone a single night without talking, whether it be texting, calling, video calling. They sat up for hours every night, just talking about their lives. That day Kayliegh had messaged Liam telling him, she had exciting news and that she would call him nine pm his time.

That night Liam made sure he finished up everything he had to so that he could be back in his quarters by the time she called.

Liam was in the middle of brushing his teeth when the phone started ringing.

“dammit” he mumbled with his mouth full of toothpaste as he ran into the room, he quickly lifted his phone and pressed answer before carrying it into the bathroom

“giff me twwo thecondth” he quickly spat his toothpaste out, then gargled some mouthwash, once he was finished, he laughed as he lifted the phone making his way back into the bedroom “I’m sorry, I was in the middle of brushing my teeth”

“it’s okay…so how was your day?” she giggled

“it was great, I visited the new primary school in the capitol, then I just spent a couple of hours signing papers and stuff…it was pretty relaxing believe it or not” he chuckled

“I looked it up, the articles about the grand opening last week, like you told me, it looks great, the children look so happy”

“they were all so full of energy today, it was great”

“it sounds it!”

“so, tell me…what’s your big surprise?” Liam asked as he settled into bed.

“well…I got a call from my assistant earlier today and she informed me that a one Queen Mother Regina had called and personally invited me to the Fashion show to raise money for Portavira”

“Regina called?”

“yes…she spoke to Alison, she sent all of the flight details and everything over…I’m coming to Cordonia on Friday”

“that’s amazing Kayliegh!! I’ll have a room fixed up for you…you can stay at the palace!”

“Liam, I can’t, I wouldn’t want to intrude like that!”

“you won’t be, I promise, I would love it, if you came to stay at the palace whilst you’re here…I stayed with you whilst I was in New York, its only right you stay in my home whilst you’re here” he smirked

“alright” she chuckled “I’ll stay at the palace”

“how long are you staying?”

“I don’t know, Regina said its open tickets…I was thinking …I’m long overdue a holiday…but that was when I was staying at a hotel…I wouldn’t want to take advantage of your hospitality”

“No, that’s fine, I would be more than happy to have you here for as long as you want, the more time I get to spend with you the better”

“well…then… a week or two in the sun sounds great” she whispered

“I can’t, I want to show you all of the best places to see, the capitol…Portavira, Lythikos…all of it!”

“are you sure you won’t be too busy your Majesty?” she giggled

“I will make sure of it”

“well…I would really like that”

“I can’t wait to see you, Kayliegh”

“I can’t wait to see you…ive actually missed you a lot”

“you sound surprised” Liam chuckled

“I am…” she laughed “I mean, we spent what not even fort eight hours together, two months later and I can’t stop thinking about you”

“well, I hope you know I am no different to you…I too can’t stop thinking about you”

As the week went on, Liam's butterflies grew and grew, he had never been so nervous about having a visitor at the palace. he couldn’t wait for her to arrive. Regina had suggested that he take some time off…to spend some time with Kayliegh, she told him whenever he needed, she would deal with the royal duties, which he was ever so grateful for. Kayliegh was to land in Cordonia at four pm on the Friday, Liam hadn’t told her, but he was going to take his car and pick her up from the airport.

When Liam arrived at the airport on the Friday, he had tried to be as discreet as possible, he wore a black baseball cap and sunglasses, with jeans and just a casual shirt. Liam sat on the bench closest to the doors that she would be coming through. Every so often he was looking at his wrist to check the time.

It was quarter past four when the doors opened, Liam looked up as soon as he heard them opening, he watched each person that walked through them, looking for her face. He smirked as his eyes fell upon her face. she was wearing, just your everyday casual clothes, jeans, loose t shirt, jacket and sneakers. Liam stood from the bench as Kayliegh stopped and looked around for a sign with her name on it. he lifted the piece of paper on the bench and turned it towards her. As she turned and seen the paper she smirked, she made her way over, trailing her suitcase behind her. The closer she got, she more she recognised him. She picked up her pace when she realised it was him.  Eventually when she got close enough, she let go of her suitcase and wrapped her arms around him, resulting in him doing the same.

“It’s so good to see your face” she whispered as she held him tight.

“It’s so good to actually feel you in front of me” he sighed contently

Liam slowly pulled back, his hand found itself placed on Kayliegh’s cheek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for too long” he whispered before he placed his lips on hers, she smiled into his kiss as she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck.

“Mmmm” she hummed with smirk “ditto” she giggled as she pecked his lips then slowly stepped back… “this is a really nice surprise” she smirked

“I have another surprise for you…but we have to get back to the palace first”

“will you at least give me a hint?”

“nope…you’ll have to wait and see” he smirked “now…we should hurry, here, let me take that for you” he smiled as he reached for the handle of her suitcase.

“such a gentleman…here, let me take that for you” she giggled as she took his free hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.

“now that was smooth” he laughed as they headed out to his car. The two headed straight for the palace, Liam Pointing out the scenery and naming different places as they passed them.

“the view is to die for” she grinned as she looked out at the sea view, she felt something touching her hand, as she looked down, she seen Liam linking his fingers with hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“you like the view from the car you should see it from the palace…there’s this little place in the capitol, it has the best view of Cordonia, it may be one of the places I plan on taking you this evening” he smirked as he placed his hand on top of hers on the middle seat.

“really? I’m excited! I can’t wait”

Kayliegh gasped as the palace came into view.

“is that?”

“yes…that’s my home” Liam smirked

“it’s beautiful, Liam”

“thank you”

Once they pulled up at the doors they climbed out, Liam grabbing Kayliegh’s suitcase whilst she carried her carry-on luggage. They made their way inside, staff greeting them as they entered the palace. Just as Liam and Kayliegh went to head up the stairs to the room he had prepared for her, Regina walked into the foyer.

“Liam, my dear your back” she smiled as she walked over

“and you must be Kayliegh Reed” she extended her hand for Kayliegh to shake it.

“that’s what it says on my birth certificate” she giggled as she shook her hand “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Regina.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you, my dear, Liam has not stopped talking about you”

“Regina!” Liam flustered

“all good things I hope”

“all great things my dear, I’ve never seen him so happy”

“oh really?” she grinned

“I have to run, I have a meeting to get to, but I hope at some point during your stay, we can have lunch together”

“I would absolutely love that”

“I’ll have you slotted into my schedule”

“just let me know when” Kayliegh nodded before she and Liam bid Regina goodbye then they headed up to Kayliegh’s room. Liam unlocked the door with the key from his pocket, then opened the door, allowing Kayliegh to step in first, then he followed quickly after, closing the door behind him, he placed the key for her on the bedside table, then placed her suitcase in her closet.

“Now this is a luxury room” she giggled

“would you like to know what the surprise is?” Liam smirked

“of course,”

“well…if I may not be too forward with you…I would like to take you out on a date…if that would be okay with you?”

“a date? I would like that very much” she nodded “I would actually like to talk to you about something”

“oh?” he asked concerned

“yeah, don’t worry, it’s nothing to worry about…so anyway…tell me, what’s the plan for the evening?” she asked as she walked over to him, stopping in front of him with smile.

“I have made reservations at the best restaurant in Cordonia, then I was thinking we go to that place I was telling you about earlier, then maybe we could take a walk along the beach”

“that sounds amazing!” she whispered, “What time will you be coming by to pick me up?” she asked with a chuckle.

“reservations are for six o’clock so if you are ready for five-thirty, I will come by then” he laughed

“alright…don’t be late” she smirked

“I wouldn’t dream of it”

After Liam left the room, Kayliegh started getting ready for their date. She chose a long black maxi dress, with long sleeves, and a high slit in the side, she paired the dress with a pair of plain black, slightly pointed toe, stiletto heels. She had her hair curled and pulled to the side. She had neutral make up with a slightly bolder lip.

When the clock struck five-thirty, there was a knock at her door. she grinned as she opened the door to see Liam.

“wow” she whispered as she looked his body up and down, he was adorned in a modern fit black suit, it was a formal looking suit with a white shirt, with the top two buttons undone.

“you look very handsome” she smiled

“and you, my dear…you look…absolutely stunning” Liam took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips, he placed the gentlest kiss on her skin. “these are for you” Liam smirked as he pulled his arm from behind his back to reveal a bunch of red roses

“they are gorgeous…thank you” she smiled as she leaned up and kissed his cheek. She moved over to the dressed were she sat the roses down, “do you think someone could put them in some water for me?” she asked as she moved over to the bed, she had sat her clutch bag, she lifted it along with her key, then she made her way out of the room.

“of course, I’ll get one of the staff to do it whilst we are out.”

“thank you” As they walked down the hall, heading for the main stairs, Liam slyly slipped his hand into hers, she curled her fingers around his hand causing him to do the same to hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. They made their way out to the car waiting for them, then headed out on their date. They were in the car for all of twenty minutes, when they pulled up outside a romantic looking place. Liam climbed out of the car then reached his hand in for Kayliegh to take, as she did, she climbed from the car, then they headed inside. They were greeted by a rather chipper old man, who quickly made his way over, pulling Liam into a hug.

“Liam, it’s been so long”

“It’s great to see you again Alex”

“and who is this?” Alex gestured to Kayliegh.

“Alex this is Kayliegh”

“Well, Kayliegh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, you look magnificent this evening”

“thank you, Alex”

“so, Liam…is this a date?” Alex wiggled his eyebrows at him

“Alex!” Liam blushed

“come on…you can tell me” he laughed

“yes, it’s a date” he chuckled

“well…I hope all goes well” Alex smirked “I’ve prepared the tables out on the beachfront, just take your pick of which one you want, I’ll be waiting on your table tonight” Alex smiled as he showed the two out to the deck.

“Wow, this is just magnificent” Kayliegh gasped as she seen the view from the deck, the sun was just setting, casting an umber glow on the beach. “Shall we pick a table” Liam smiled as he took gestured for Kayliegh to take her pick. “that middle one” she smiled as she pointed to it. “it’s right in the middle, not too far onto the beach not too far away from it either”

“why don’t you both have a seat then I’ll get your drink orders.”

After getting them their drinks then taking their food orders Alex headed inside leaving the two alone.

“so…you said you wanted to talk to me about something?” Liam asked as he took her hand in his overtop of the table.

“yes…I…Liam…I just want to be clear on what…this is” she gestured between the two. “I mean…are we really REALLY good friends?” she smirked “or are we aiming for something more?”

“okay” Liam smiled… “alright well, why don’t we start by telling the other how we feel right now, in this moment?”

“okay…I’ll go first” she smiled “I like you…I like you A LOT…. I am extremely attracted to you, Liam…I love spending time with you, and I want to keep spending time with you...”

“okay…” Liam smirked a he squeezed her hand “I too like you A LOT, from the first moment I laid eyes on you, ive not stopped thinking about you, every time I see you or hear your voice, it makes me happy, I think you’re extremely smart and thoughtful, it’s no secret that your very beautiful, I am very attracted to you, I want to spend as much time with you as possible” Just as Liam finished talking Alex walked through the doors, with two plates in hand, he placed them down in front of Liam and Kayliegh then wished them a good meal before heading back in after they thanked him.

“Liam, my life plan, is to find a husband, to love and care for me, better than my last one, have a family, children, puppies, whether that man is you or not…I don’t know…but I would very much like to find out.” She admitted as she started to dig into her food as Liam done the same.

“Kayliegh, all ive ever wanted is to find a woman who means more to me than anyone in the world, I want lots of beautiful little babies, dogs running around…I want it all…but being king can sometimes make that difficult…I really truly think this could be something special…and I want to see where it goes”

“I know it won’t be easy, we live 4,000 miles apart, but nothing ever is, being who I am, isn’t easy…being married wasn’t easy…everything that happened with louis wasn’t easy, getting over everything that happened wasn’t easy…nothings easy…the best things in life are usually the hardest…if you think it’s worth it…you fight for it, and this…me and you, Liam…I am more than willing to fight for.”

“I am too, I want nothing more than for this to work”

“then that’s it? we’re...kind of dating?” she blushed with a giggle “that sounds really corny doesn’t it?”

“Maybe courting would be a better word for it, that sounds a little less cheesy”

“courting? I like that! it’s like we’re in the 50’s or something…is that even the Right decade…I don’t know I like though…” Liam chuckled as she babbled away.

“I like it too”

After the two finished their main meal, then went on to have desert than another drink each. When Alex came back out, he took away their empty glasses “can I get you both another?”

“thank you, Alex, but I think we’re going to head out now” Liam smiled

“okay, no problem, are you heading back to the palace or is the night still young?”

“the night is still very much young, I’m taking Kayliegh to the sky view bar”

“Liam's loved that place, since the day I showed him it” Alex informed Kayliegh

“oh? so how did you guys meet?”

“I met Liam not long after the Queen Died, he would leave the palace for hours at a time, he would go to the library in the capitol and sit outside reading, that’s where I met him.”

“Alex was a great help after my mother died, he helped me come to terms with everything that had happened.”

“now, I’ve told you, why don’t you tell me how you two met?”

Liam and Kayliegh told him the story of how they met.

“I think that sounds a bit like fate” Alex smirked

“Alex…I didn’t ask, how is Rosie doing?”

“oh, she’s fine, she’s got a little bit of a bug…but she stills finds the energy to shout at me” he laughed with Liam and Kayliegh

“give her my best wishes, I hope she feels better soon”

“I’m tell her you were asking for her” he nodded “I should let you get going, don’t be a stranger!”

As Liam went to pull his wallet out, Kayliegh went to get her purse.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, this is on me” Liam smirked

“now, come on, let me pay my half, I ate too”

“honestly Kayliegh, I’ve got this”

“I won’t take no for an answer Liam…I ate too, I will pay for my meal” she laughed

“let me be a gentleman and pay”

“you can still be gentleman Liam, my time is just as valuable as yours, why should you pay for me, but I don’t pay for you? We both ate, we both pay” she smiled

“alright! This is going to go on all night, you’re both as stubborn as the other, this meal is on me” Alex laughed

“no, Alex, we couldn’t” Liam refused.

“Liam, you know I won’t accept your money in here, ive told you time and time again…”

“Alex…”

“I too will not take no for an answer, you repay me, by looking after my country, Liam”

“Alex, thank you” Liam gave him a gracious nod as he stood from his seat, followed by Kayliegh doing the same, Liam reached his hand out to shake Alex’, Alex smirked then pulled Liam into a hug.

“you come by again soon, you hear me?!” he patted his back

“of course,” Liam laughed as they both pulled back.

“and you my dear,” Alex turned to Kayliegh pulling her into a hug “you don’t be a stranger, I promise you, he’s a keeper.”

“oh, I know” she smirked

After bidding Alex goodbye, Liam and Kayliegh left the restaurant, as Bastian went to open the car door for them, Liam cleared his throat, “Actually, Bastian, I think I would like to walk, if that’s okay with Kayliegh?”

“of course, that’s fine” she nodded

“of course, Your Majesty” Bastian nodded then closed the door.

As Kayliegh and Liam headed down the street, Bastian walked not far behind them. Kayliegh slipped her hand into Liam's, the smiled at him when he looked at her smiling.

“I hope you don’t mind” she whispered

“of course, not”

It took them just a few minutes to reach the bar, Liam opened the door allowing Kayliegh to walk through first, then they made their way up the stairs and out to the main bar. Kayliegh gasped as she seen the view “my goodness, look at that!” she whispered “that’s amazing, Liam”

“it’s beautiful isn’t it” he smirked as he moved to place his hand on her lower back. “why don’t we sit down over there” he pointed at a table in the corner, looking out over the banister. “okay yeah” she nodded “I’ll get us some drinks, what would you like?”

“I’ll have a glass of wine, thank you” she smirked

“oh, feeling adventurous?” Liam wriggled his eyebrows

“I am actually” she laughed “I’ll go sit down at the table”

Liam nodded then watched her walk towards the table, he smirked to himself as he walked to the bar, he got their drinks then headed over to Kayliegh. He placed two glasses of wine on the table then sat himself down. the two sat all night, just talking and laughing away.

By the time ten o’clock clock came, Liam had made his way round to sit next to Kayliegh, instead of across from her, he had his arm around her shoulder,  Kayliegh lay her head on his shoulder with a yawn “it’s been a long day” she whispered “it’s been the best day though” a smirk fell upon her face.

“it really has been” Liam whispered as he turned his head and placed a kiss on her head “it’s getting late, maybe we should head back? we can walk along the beach, on the way back to the car?”

“yeah, that sounds great” Kayliegh agreed, the two stood up, Liam took Kayliegh by the hand then they headed out. They took a shortcut down between two of the building’s that came straight out onto the beach. Kayliegh pulled her heels off, carrying them in her free hand. Just a few minutes into their walk she turned to Liam, “do you mind if we sit down somewhere?”

“of course, not”

“I want to take advantage of it, it’s just so peaceful here”

they took a seat on the sand, just far enough where the tide wouldn’t hit them. Liam lay, leaning back with his hands linked behind his head, whilst Kayliegh lay horizontal to him, with her head on his stomach.

“I prefer the beach at night, than during the day” she whispered “I mean I like the heat, during the day, but at night, it’s just so peaceful, it’s a great place to just…breathe for a minute”

“it’s nice, to just get away for a little bit” Liam whispered as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.

“if you keep doing that, I’m going to end up falling asleep”

“I’m so happy you’re here, Kayliegh”

“I am too, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now”

After a further ten minutes sitting on the beach the two stood to their feet then carried on down the beach towards the car. Kayliegh shivered as she moved in closer to Liam.

“Here…” Liam shrugged off his blazer and went to wrap it around Kayliegh’s shoulders

“no, I’ll be fine, we’ll be in the car soon, if I take your jacket…you’ll get cold”

“I’ll be fine, come on, please take it” he smirked as he placed it over her shoulders.

“thank you” she whispered.

Once the two reached the car, they climbed in then headed back to the palace. By the time they got back, everyone else was already either in bed if they live there, or at home if they didn’t. Liam walked Kayliegh to her room, they both stopped at the door, Kayliegh turned after unlocking it, Liam placed his hands on her waist, taking a step closer to her, she smiled as she looked up at him, “thank you for this evening, Liam, I haven’t enjoyed myself that much in a really long time”

“me too” he whispered, after about thirty seconds of silence Liam whispered “you know…I really wanna kiss you right now” his hand gently made its way to Kayliegh’s cheek “do it” she whispered just barely audible. Liam quickly moved in, linking his lips with hers, they both moved in-sync like they were one, as the kiss heated up, Kayliegh’s hands ran through his hair, messing it slightly. She held him as close to him as she could. Liam's hands made their way around down and around her body, finally landing on her back.

“Li-Liam” she mumbled out of breath as they just barely pulled apart, their foreheads leaned against each other’s “yeah?” he replied as he breathed deeply “M-maybe w-we…we should…um stop” she whispered as she moved in to kiss him again.

“of course,” Liam mumbled into her lips as his hold tightening around her. “This is us…stopping” he moaned quietly as his tongue ran along her lip. Kayliegh let out a quiet moan as she gripped his hair in her hands, causing him to groan. After a further minute or so, Kayliegh gently placed her hands on his chest as she pulled back a little.

“we’re still in the corridor” she breathed deeply

“of course, we should…um…we should pause right there” Liam whispered

“I umm…I should get to bed, I’ve had a really long day”

“of course, sweet dreams, Kayliegh. If you need anything…more blankets or anything…I’m just next door” Liam placed the gentlest kiss on her lips “goodnight” then he moved towards his room, never taking his eyes off her. “goodnight, Liam…Sweet dreams” she whispered as she watched him head into his room and close the door. she followed suit, going into her own room, she shut the door then fell back against it, running her hands over her face.

“holy shit” she whispered to herself, once she changed and done her night time hygiene routine, she headed for bed. She placed her phone on her bedside table, then curled up under the covers. she sat wide awake, hot and bothered for way too long. She tossed and turned, she couldn’t shake the feelings he left her with.

“fuck this” she groaned as she threw her duvet from over her, then stood from the bed, she pulled her robe on, then made her way towards the door, once she was out, she locked the door behind her. She made her way to Liam's door, gently knocking then waiting for him to answer. Just seconds later, the door opened. Liam smirked when he seen her, “play?” she whispered “play!” he smirked as she barrelled towards him, wrapping her arms around him, pushing her lips on his, he quickly responded to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, he pulled her close to him as their tongues attacked each other. Liam lifted her into his arms, she wrapped her legs around his torso, as he turned to walk over to the bed, he kicked the door shut.

And that night…they both hoped would be the first of many!

If you like it, maybe give it a wee reblog! <3

[radiantcutice-blog]

Prison Break

Ten keys.

Not all of them are useful, not to Len, but the weight of them in his fingers is grounding, even more so than his gun strapped to his thigh. Barry had been aghast, of course, when Don and Dawn brought them to Len, but now Len wonders if they hadn’t known, somehow, that he’d need them. If it was really just a coincidence, or if it was something more. He hadn’t bothered asking, just thanked them softly, again and again, and promised he was getting their dad back.

Sam and Marc follow him up through the abandoned hospital wing to Iron Heights proper, surveying the cells around them as prisoners start to stir. Their time is limited; even with Barry playing along, Papercut and Folded Man can only keep him occupied for so long; so Len gets to work.

Blacksmith stays where she’s at- Len doesn’t have time to butt heads with Miss New Rogues, nor the patience to try and rein in her chaos. Murmur doesn’t get a second glance, either- he needs a breakout team, not a mass murderer.

The first person Len lets out is Girder, and it’s clear that it’s not out of any goodwill. He locks eyes with Woodward as he opens the door, breaking the airtight seal of his cell and watching the agony crawl across the metal man’s face. “Snart,” he creaks, lurching towards him, but Len keeps moving, letting Sam and Marc push the iron golem towards the Pipeline security that’s surely on its way. If he rusts away, good fucking riddance. Len has no sympathy for a rapist.

Abra Kadabra and Plunder both get passed over, Kadabra briefly meeting his eyes to sneer at him. The 34th century man has thrown in with the Light, and Len wants nothing to do with them, certainly not in a position where he’d be indebted to the shady fucks. He’ll get his people without throwing in with the death cult that nearly handed the world to aliens, thanks.

Plunder- well, Morillo’s just useless.

Len slows at Doctor Alchemy’s cell, rapping lightly at the door to draw his attention from his book. “Desmond.”

“Snart,” Alchemy replies, finger holding his page as he shuts his book briefly. “To what do I owe the honor.”

“Was wonderin’ if you were lookin’ to take a walk,” he suggests, and, while Alchemy sighs, he doesn’t go back to his book just yet.

“And what would incentivize this… walk, Leonard?”

He smiles, briefly. “Flasher’s takin’ it kinda hard over in the city proper. Heard Magenta was gettin’ called in to reinforce him.”

“How is Miss Kane?”

“One way to find out.”

Albert considers Len for another long moment before fully setting aside his book. “I think I’d like that.”

Len nods, unlocking the cell and lobbing the Philosopher’s Stone at Desmond underhand, the Heights-issued version of his costume melting from where it meets his glove outwards. Once he’s really dressed, Alchemy nods regally, striding past Len into the hall.

“Head for the abandoned hospital wing. There’s a tunnel out. And don’t let Girder follow ya, if you don’t mind?” Len suggests, chuckling as Alchemy makes a familiar face at the mention of Woodward.

“Certainly not,” he mutters, reaching out to touch Len’s parka lightly. “Tell your family, when you see them next, that I said hello.”

A nod satisfies him, and he turns to leave, slipping past Sam and Marc as they rejoin Len, past where Girder is engaging the Pipeline guards, and towards the exit.

Peek-a-boo is next, curled up in her cell with her knees to her chest, and Len knocks again, gentle, to get her attention.

“Lashawn?”

“Whatever you’re sellin’, I’m not buying,” she snaps, pulling in tighter on herself, and he sighs.

“Your pop’s at the top’a the transplant list. I figured you’d wanna get out to see him.”

That catches her attention and she stands, slowly, arms still wrapped around her torso. “What’s in it for you?”

“You see your family, I see mine.”

Len can see the doubt, can’t even blame her for it. She’s a good kid. “And after?”

“After, I got papers for you. Clean identity. You can get yourself back to school, see your dad every now and then- no strings attached. Even see what we can do about that metagene of yours.”

If she turns him down, Len’s willing to move on- it’ll suck, but he is. He figured he should at least give it a shot, though.

“One job,” Lashawn tells him, and he nods.

“One job, kid,” he agrees, unlocking her cell and giving her a wide berth to exit, Sam passing over her confiscated gear as their group keeps moving.

He doesn’t have a key for the final cell he stops in front of, and both Sam and Marc make disgusted little sounds, but they know they’re desperate. No one says a word, all regarding each other warily from across the glass.

“Your boyfriend know you’re here, Snart?” August asks casually, too casually, and Len doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“The Feds shoved my people in a swamp to rot. You wanna help me help them, or you gonna sit here and twiddle your thumbs like you couldn’t leave whenever the hell you want,” Len challenges, and the spark of lightning in Heart’s eye tells him all he needs to know.

“You letting me out or not?”

Scudder fires off a shot into the glass of August’s cell and steps through, reaching to grab the speedster by the wrist and yank him through into the hall with the rest. August raises his brows and tilts his head a little, obviously offering his collared throat for Len to do something about.

He makes an indignant noise when Len turns away. “Hey, cabrón, forgetting something?” Heart calls, and Len would ignore him if not for the fact that he doesn’t hear his feet moving.

“I’ll take it off when we get where we’re goin’.”

That doesn’t make August any happier. “Really? Someone touches Baez and she blows, and you’re more worried about keeping me under wraps?”

Lashawn doesn’t look impressed by being dragged into this, and Len can hardly blame her, meeting her eyes for a moment before looking directly at Heart. “Baez hasn’t, to my knowledge, expressed interest in killing me before.”

The staredown lasts a good dozen seconds longer than Len would like, but, finally, August shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Marc snorts and Sam doesn’t bother hiding his grin as Len turns away again.

The screech of metal follows them out through the abandoned hospital wing and the tunnels- the screech, and the bellow of Tony Woodward in pain.

Maybe it says something about Len that he doesn’t even flinch.

They leave the Heights behind them, the sounds of fighting ahead in Central proper as Booker and Edwin keep Barry “occupied,” but the group turns towards Keystone instead, to one of Sam’s personal hideouts. He’s obviously still put out by bringing August, glancing over his shoulder with a slight sneer as he unlocks the door of the warehouse and hustles everyone inside and down to the basement.

One whole wall is covered in a mirror, and Len stares up at it as he waits for Sam to lock up and come downstairs, ignoring the heavy silence of their guests until Sam steps into his peripherals.

“Alright.” He turns, setting out the map of Belle Reve, created from his own stay and the twins’ memories, marked with guard towers, security cameras, and any other notes Len had deemed necessary, and begins laying out the plan.

Len counts down on his fingers and then signals for them to go, emerging simultaneously from four panes of glass on Belle Reve’s outer guard towers to take out all of them at once. It goes down without a hitch- Len can hear it over his earpiece, the quick confirmations from the others- and he looks out the window to see the dark clouds over the prison growing even darker, heavy with rain that starts to fall over the outer courtyard. There’s a ripple of unhappiness in the guards in the yard, noises of complaint coming over the tower radio, and they let it go on for a while before Marc increases the storm further, the distant first flash of lightning and the rumble of thunder signalling them to come down from the tower and meet.

When they’re in one place, he pulls one of Lisa’s devices from his pocket- his sister’s damn brilliant, not that Len didn’t already know- and deactivates August’s collar, scooping it up and shoving into an inner pocket of his parka. Heart’s whole body crackles with the familiar static of the Speed Force that makes Len’s hair stand up and his lichtenburg scar itch.

“Wizard. Give him a jump,” Len instructs, and both men glance at him, Marc in concern and Heart in confusion.

“You sure about that?” He nods, and Marc blows out a sigh, taking a moment to focus, eyes shut, more lightning streaking through the clouds over the prison to hide what he’ll do next.

Heart doesn’t look reassured. “What do you mean, a jump?” he asks, and Len can hear the tremor in his voice, used to hearing it when Barry’s stressed, the way he vibrates, trying not to just bolt.

“My wand manipulates electron fields,” Marc murmurs, opening his eyes- they, too, spark and glow with lightning, bright blue, and Len sees Lashawn step back in the corner of his eye. “I can turn potential energy into kinetic- what you speedsters run on. It’ll put you on top of your game, chabón.”

“M’already on top of my game,” Heart argues, but his interest is pretty obvious, and he takes a breath, glancing up and waiting for the next strike of lightning to let the Speed Force come over him, materializing his bright costume in a flash of white-gold lightning. His voice vibrates more now, Godspeed’s voice instead of August’s, and his gold lenses land on Marc. “Hit me.”

For the first time since Len suggested this, Marc actually grins- he can’t help being eager, and Len knows he’s been dying to test this theory for ages- and raises his wand, shocking August with the next lightning strike, blue mixing with Godspeed’s white until the speedster’s edges blur, glowing unearthly and wreathed with static. Lowering the wand again, Marc’s eyes return to normal, still grinning as he steps back.

“You alright, Godspeed?” His head moves- a nod, maybe?- and one speedster becomes two becomes three, and oh, Len hopes this wasn’t a mistake.

“Never better, Snart,” one of them answers, and Len nods curtly.

“You know your role.” All three move their heads- yeah, it’s gotta be a nod- and wait for the next crack of lightning to take off into the yard, disarming guards and knocking them out with a speed and precision that Len would take a moment to admire if he weren’t focused on the job. “Mirror Master, cameras. Wizard, storm. Boo, on me.”

They break, fluid, determined, and Len feels a pang of longing for the old days, when a small team like this would’ve been him, Mick, Lise, Sam, and Digger, just the five of them against anyone who got in their way. It’s so sudden that Len’s pace falters and Lashawn spares him a glance, but he waves her on, pulling the cold gun from its holster and powering it up as they pass the crumpled forms of guards, their dismantled weapons scattered in the mud.

He freezes his heart just like he does the prison wall, watching frost creep over the thick concrete as the beam of his gun reflects in his and Lashawn’s goggles until he releases the trigger, stepping back even further to let Baez do her part.

Standing close but not too close to the frozen wall, Baez shuts her eyes and teleports, the explosion sending brittle chunks of concrete flying through the air. A crack of thunder follows, and Len squints to see through the blinding explosion and the glow of lightning- Godspeed is there, one of him, at least, knocking aside shrapnel in a circle around Len and Lashawn and glancing over his shoulder when he’s done.

“Don’t get yourself killed. Barry would kick my ass,” he tells Len, and it almost seems like a joke, before he bolts again, leaving the duo to get back to their job.

Once the wall is down and Sam confirms he has control of the cameras, two of Godspeed dart ahead into Belle Reve, the clank of turrets and power suit pieces followed by the thump of unconscious bodies as Marc, Lashawn, a third August, and Len make their way in. Sam emerges from the dull shine of a polished metal “mirror,” making a face but not complaining as they head through the halls.

“How’s it lookin’?”

“Deadshot, Plastique, Frost, Bronze Tiger, and the Shark,” Sam relays grimly.

“We couldn’t have gotten any less?” Len grouses, the dull throb of a headache starting at the back of his skull. This is going to suck, but they’re going to do it. They have to. “If Waller lets Task Force X out, Heart, you’re on Bronze Tiger. He’s one of Waller’s enforcers on the team- least likely to listen to reason. Master martial artist, so watch yourself.” Heart nods and is off to help his doubles.

“Nanue shouldn’t be hard. Great whites fall into hibernation under a certain temperature, it’s just a matter of getting him there,” he murmurs, hand on the cold gun. “Peek-a-boo, I want you on Killer Frost. She needs to touch people to absorb heat-”

“-And touching me’s a bad idea,” Lashawn finishes. Not a hard conclusion to come to, but it still makes Len smirk when she does. “Got it.”

“Wizard-”

“Plastique,” Marc volunteers. “Same trick as Heart on her explosions.”

“I got Lawton,” Sam rounds out. “Wiz and I are gonna head for Glider and Top.”

Len nods and they split off to head for the thick glass that separates the two halves of the prison’s indoor exercise area, to the other side where the other Rogues await them. Lashawn keeps pace with Len, no longer faltering as he gets closer to his husband, freezing over unconscious guards to keep them down if they wake up before the job is done. It’s only when a bullet hits the ground in front of his feet that he stops his determined march, hearing Lashawn gasp as she nearly runs into him and hastily stumbles back, trying not to blow while Len searches for the source.

Deadshot waves down at him from a guard post and Len sneers.

“Hey, Snart.”

“Whataya want, Lawton, I ain’t got the time,” he snaps back, voice cracking like ice against the concrete walls, and Lawton raises his hands in innocence, showing that his finger’s off his trigger.

“The Wall was pissed you got to Boomer’s corpse before her. Could’ve been real useful to her,” Lawton drawls, and Len could shoot him, here and now, he really could.

“She wasn’t about to desecrate one of my people’s bodies.”

Lowering his hands again, Deadshot leans against the low wall in front of him, gun dangling in a loose grip that Len knows says nothing about how dangerous he is right now. “I know, Snart. I know.” He searches for his words, and, for once in the conversation, he seems sincere. “I’m glad she didn’t get him, either.”

Len eyes him for a long moment before Lawton nods, flicking on his safety and shoving his gun in the waistband of his prison orange. “My people and me didn’t see a thing. Never encountered you. Go get your family.”

Nodding back, Len gestures for Lashawn to follow, deeper into the prison until they reach the cell block, people gathering curiously at their doors, murmurs getting louder when they realize who and what this is.

Cries of “Cold” or “Snart” are ignored- voices he hardly recognizes or doesn’t care about, no, he’s not here for them- no, it’s the first tentative, tired call of “Lenny?” that grabs his attention.

“Motek,” Len breathes, and he’s at Mick’s cell in an instant, the bruises on his skin and under his eyes making Len’s heart ache, but the little smile he gives Len- god, he’s missed it. “Step back, Mickey.”

He does, his cellie taken back with him by a strong, scarred arm, and Len freezes the cell door, kicking one of the icy bars to watch the whole damn thing crumble.

Mick rushes him for a kiss, and Len grips him even as Mick shivers, even as the prison jeers and yells around them.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks his husband when he pulls away, and Mick goes from lovey to his game face, confident strides leading Len to the other two Rogues scattered among the prisoners, each of them freed, collars deactivated, and joining the pack, their cellmates left to do as they please.

Len doesn’t stop them from going for the guards, embracing Hartley and muttering my boy into his long hair before bringing Roy in, too, slapping his back heartily as he lets go.

“Couldn’ta been any quicker about it?” Mick grumbles- Len knows, doesn’t snap back, just takes his husband’s hand and squeezes briefly before leading heading towards the rec area, getting a raised brow. “That ain’t the way out, boss.”

“Sam and Marc are getting Lisey and Ros, and we’re all meeting at the big glass,” he explains, the others’ eyes widening in comprehension and letting him push on, the crackle of static crawling up the back of his neck as they head further in.

Mick feels it, too, looks hopeful for a moment, but Godspeed skids into existence and his whole face darkens. “Him, Lenny?”

“I did what I had to, motek,” he answers, knowing that will be a whole other talk when they get home. “What’s going on, Godspeed.”

“Jump wore off,” he answers, voice still buzzing, but not as hard. “I can still maintain one other- he’s doing another round now. Be here soon. Guards are still out, but the cameras are starting to come back online.”

Len nods curtly, lets Heart flash ahead of them and follows the trail of lightning to the open rec space, face softening at the sight of his sister and her partner on the other side of the thick glass with Marc, Sam, and August’s double.

“Mr. Snart-Rory.” He turns to see Amanda Waller herself standing above them. “Did you really think this was wise?”

They stare silently at each other for a long moment before Len gestures to Sam, the fire of the mirror gun muffled by the glass wall, the Rogues on the far side vanishing into the mirror before the closer side ripples, Lisa’s hand reaching through. Hartley takes it first, disappearing through, and Waller can only watch Len’s people leave her impenetrable walls.

“I got a question for you, too, Warden Waller,” he answers evenly, watching Mick pass through before he steps up to the mirror. “Did you really think it was wise to cross the Rogues?”

He only narrowly stops himself from flipping her off before he steps through to the portal to go home.

[schrijfpen-blog]

Beckoning Dreams Ch. 3

Story Navigation

“So how was it?”

I cradle the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I place my mail on my desk for later. “It was amazing,” I tell Paris over the phone. “Well, he was amazing. I was stupid.” I groan a bit, as I think back to how awkward I was during the date.

“Did you spill the cake on his shirt? It looked pretty expensive.”

I let out a strangled sound that may or may not have been a choke. “I did not!”

“Oh.” I sure hope that isn’t disappointment I hear in Paris’ voice. “Then what?”

“Just,” I sigh, switching the phone to speaker as I drop onto my bed, letting my phone fall next to my head. “It was hard to talk, somehow...”

“I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do with that guy, other than talk,” Paris says with a chuckle, and I can imagine her licking her lips suggestively, like she does whenever she sees there are still cupcakes left after work.

A small laugh leaves my lips. “Not like that, it’s something different. Like...” I struggle to find the right words to describe my dilemma. “It’s like there is this haze in my head every time he’s near.” I decide that is the best way to say it. I can think so clearly, now that he’s not around. However, if he were to show up, I just know, I’ll practically go mute again, following along with whatever he wants.

It’s actually a little scary!

“-Aaaand you’re not listening.”

Paris’ voice snaps me out of my thoughts, causing me to let out a highly intelligent, “Huh...?”

Paris sighs on the other end of the line. “Honey, at least pretend to listen to me.”

“I’m really sorry,” I apologise quickly, “I was lost in thought...”

“About Dante?” Paris guesses, correctly.

“Yeah.” I admit, sheepishly.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I was talking about him, too.”

I laugh a little, shaking my head slightly.

“So, did you ask him if he has a twin brother?” Paris asks.

I clear my throat. “No...” I trail off. I almost asked him at one point, but hadn’t. I didn’t want Dante to think of me as weird... even though he probably thought that anyway. Nice going, me!

“What if I miss my chance for romance because you’re not checking if my future husband exists?”

I smile at the joking tone in her voice. “What if he has a sister?”

There is a slight pause, before Paris replies, “Then ask him if she looks manly and resembles him closely.”

I burst into laughter, giggles coming out from her end of the phone, too.

“So? Did you plan another date?” Paris asks, once our laughter had calmed down.

“He hinted for a second date, but...” I trail off.

“But?” Paris urges me.

“We didn’t make anything concrete, so...” I sigh, “I don’t know, maybe he was just saying it to be nice.”

“Surely you weren’t that horrible. You were just quiet, it’s not like you called his mother a llama or something, right?”

“Right,” I agree. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I was a boring date...”

“Most people have an awkward first date, don’t worry about it.” Paris comforts me in a cheerful voice.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right...” Turning the phone off speaker, I place it against my ear and get up. Paris comforts me with tales of some of her first dates with guys, while I move to the window, looking outside.

Movement catches my eye, and I must have let out a small sound, because Paris immediately asks me what’s wrong. The words barely register as I lean out of my window a bit, looking at the deserted street. “Nothing...” I say finally, letting out the breath I didn’t even realise I was holding. “I thought I saw someone, but it was probably a cat or something.”

“Are you sure?” Paris asks worriedly. “Maybe someone is there, you should call Luca.”

“It’s nothing.” I say, shaking my head even though Paris can’t see. “Just my imagination.”

“Well if you’re sure...” Paris murmurs, though she still sounds worried.

“Everything is okay, don’t worry,” I smile a little. “If there really is someone, I’ll call Luca.”

“If there is someone you should call the police,” Paris corrects, before adding an afterthought, “and then Luca, he’ll be there sooner.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say. It just makes me happier to know that there is no one here. After how we left off, I don’t really want to call Luca, though I have no doubt in my mind that he would come to my rescue no matter what. He really is a great friend, and remembering our fight just kills the good mood I had gotten from talking to Paris.

“Hey, I should go.”

“Is there someone there after all?” Paris asks, and I think I can hear her open a bag of chips at her end of the phone.

I smile a bit. “No, there isn’t. It’s just...”

“Just?” Paris urges.

“Well,” I sigh, before flopping back down on my bed. “Luca saw me returning with Dante... He was pretty unhappy.” I sigh.

“Well of course he was; the girl he likes went out with another guy. Who wouldn’t be unhappy?”

Everything in my head slows to a stop, and I utter a relatively unintelligent, “Huh?”

“Oh please?” Paris snorts, and I just know she’s rolling her eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Kiara. It’s so obvious!”

I laugh a little. “Paris, you have it all wrong. Luca doesn’t like me in that way.” It’s a little amusing that she would think so. “We grew up together, we’re practically siblings. Him liking me would be like, you know, incest.”

There is a slightly awkward silence coming from Paris’ end. I don’t blame her; she’s probably embarrassed at her mistake. I won’t hold it against her though; other people have made that mistake through the years. “He was probably just worried, though...” I sigh softly, closing my eyes. “I was really unfair to him. I should go and apologise, and talk it out,” I decide.

“Yeah, you should do that...” Paris says, sounding absent minded.

“Though, I guess it’s late now. I’ll go by his place tomorrow before class instead,” I decide.

Ever since I can remember, Luca has been by my side. I really hate it when we fight. Fortunately we always make up really fast. Hopefully we can do so this time, too.

“Yeah, you do that...” Paris clears her throat and switches the subject, “How is Matt?”

I sigh, “I don’t know. He’s mostly been keeping to himself, in his room.”

“Still no luck with him?” Paris asks sympathetically.

“Nope, still nothing...” I murmur.

“When are you parents coming home, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.” I think for a moment, “Mom’s new movie is almost out, so I guess she’ll come back for a short while, soon; after the premiere and before the movie starts playing everywhere.”

“Must be hard, being the dirty little secret of a celeb.” Paris teases.

“Hey!” I try to sound indignant, but I laugh anyway, Paris laughing with me.

“Why don’t you call and tell them about this?” Paris asks once we’ve calmed down a bit. “You speak with them all the time, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want them to worry when they are too far away to actually help...”

“I guess I can understand that.”

I smile slightly, closing my eyes. “At any rate, it’s pretty late now, and I tried to hang up before...” I tease.

Paris giggles softly, “Oh I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all.

“Yeah, you should be,” I reply, laughing. “I’ll see you in two days, okay?”

“Okay, take care. And if you hear from Dante, let me know, would you?”

“You’re really interested in him,” I laugh a little, trying to ignore the odd feeling in my chest.

“Who wouldn’t be? My bestie is a hot guy magnet- I’ll keep you around.”

“There is no getting rid of me anyway,” I say, “You’re permanently stuck with me. Good night, Paris.”

“Good night, Kiara.” Paris makes her usual kissy sound before she hangs up.

I lay there for a moment before I get up from my bed, and walk to Matt’s room. I can faintly hear him typing on his laptop, and the muffled sound of music booming through headphones.

I sigh touching the door lightly. “Good night,” I murmur, before letting my hand drop, and head back to my room to sleep.

My last thoughts are of Dante, and his mysterious mauve eyes...

“Here we are again,” Dante murmurs as he nears me, the incense of the now familiar room entering my nose.

“This dream...” I murmur.

A smirk plays on his lips as he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer, our thighs touching.

“Is it really?” he whispers huskily, and my voice catches in my throat.

His touches, this room... Everything feels so real... Is this really a dream? It’s so hard to tell. His hand slowly travels up my back, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

“You are beautiful,” He murmurs, eyes never leaving mine.

My heart skips a beat as he picks me up, before gently lowering me onto the bed.

“This time... No more interruptions.” he murmurs, sliding his hand along my leg slowly.

Not a single part in my mind wishes to object.

I wake up, flushed and strangely exhausted. For a moment I simply stare at the ceiling in a slight daze.

What happened?

No, I know the answer to that question. Feeling a bit embarrassed, I slowly sit up.

I can’t believe I had that kind of a dream about him. How am I supposed to look him in the eye, the next time we meet? Assuming we’ll meet again...

                Skin on skin...                 Groans echoing in the dim room.                 The candles casting shadows on his naked skin,                  his mauve eyes practically glowing in the semi darkness...

A flush works its way up to my neck, and I quickly move out of bed.

The room shifts around me as I stumble, my legs feeling like they’re made of jelly, but I am able to grab onto my wall; just in time to prevent me from falling.

“With a dream like that, no wonder I’m tired,” I mumble.

I can just imagine Paris’ face, should she even find out... It’s important that she never will.

Trying to shake the far too realistic dream off, I make my way to the bathroom for a much needed cold shower.

I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating breakfast anyway.

In the end I was so nervous that I couldn’t eat a single bite of my food, though it has little to do with the dream. I’m not sure when was the last time that I felt so nervous simply about ringing Luca’s doorbell. He was the one who came to me the last time we fought, though I’m not sure you can call our disagreement an actual fight... Or is it one? Does Luca think it’s one? Wetting my dry lips, my finger hovers over the door bell. After a few minutes I finally gather my courage, and push the door bell.

I can hear footsteps approaching the door and judging from the sound of heels on the hardwood floor, I’m willing to bet it’s not Luca.

The woman who opens the door has long, wavy, golden blonde hair and baby blue eyes. She is tall, and fit. I have always thought Luca’s mother is beautiful. It’s like she didn’t age a bit in the past twenty years.

“Kiara.” Merideth smiles beautifully at me, and for a moment I hope that she is about to tell me that Luca isn’t home. She stares at me, smile faltering from her lips, but it comes back before I can ask if something is wrong. “Luca is in his room. You’re here for him, right?”

“Ah... Yes, thanks,” I smile at her, a little unsure. Is something wrong? Though her face right now doesn’t show that anything is.

Merideth’s presence never fails to comfort me. One of my more embarrassing childhood memories is that I asked Luca if his mother was an angel; I can still remember the shocked look he gave me, even now.

After walking up the familiar stairs to Luca’s room, I pause in front of his door. I’m still a little upset, but I know he was just looking out for me, and it’s not like he was wrong, so...

“Luca?” I call, before grabbing the door handle. “I’m coming in.” I open the door and step inside. Luca’s room is white and orderly as always, religious artifacts here and there.

“Ah!” Luca glances up at me, standing in his jeans in the middle of shrugging on his shirt. His bare back is turned to me, the slightly tanned skin flawless, save for the two slash scars on his shoulder-blades; apparently a result of an accident when he was younger.

“You can’t just come in here like that. I’m a guy, you know?” He protests, as he pulls his shirt over his head, finishing getting dressed.

Paris’ words come to mind again. Luca liking me... Hah, there is no way.

“What is it?” Luca asks, looking at the socks he’s putting on rather than at me. Obviously he’s still annoyed about yesterday, too. I can’t blame him; I was more than a little harsh...

I clear my throat before straightening up, as if that will give me courage. “About yesterday...” I trail off.

His shoulders tense up slightly. “What about it?”

I open my mouth, only to close it again. In the end I utter a, “I’m sorry for being so harsh, when you were just worried... I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, before he shakes his head. “There are things you don’t understand.”

I frown in response. That is definitely not what I expected to hear in answer to my apology. It’s agitating. “So then make me understand.” I say, my voice a little sharper than I intended, “Make me understand why you practically attacked Dante. Make me understand why you hate him, even though I doubt you actually know him. Make me understand why-”

“I do know him,” Luca interrupts me, effectively ending my rant. “I know of him.” He glances up at me with a slight frown. “That demon,” he practically spits out the word demon. “He’s a womanizer. I don’t want to see you fall prey to that.”

I purse my lips together. “Dante isn’t like that at all.” We haven’t known each other for long, so I’m not sure where this conviction comes from, but... When we are together, the way he looks at me... It’s like I am the only woman in the world for him.

He grabs my arm, and I try not to think of how Dante had touched the exact same place in my dream. Luca’s blue gaze is honest, urgent. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He devours-”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” I interrupt. “And I didn’t come here to make up just so that we could fight even more. I don’t want to talk about this, Luca.”

He mutters something under his breath that I can’t quite pick up before he shakes his head. “You’re right, this isn’t getting us anywhere,” he sighs and pats the bed next to him.

I walk over slightly reluctantly, before sitting down a bit away from him.

Luca sends me a sideways look before he snorts, reaching out and pulling me closer to his body before he drops backwards on the bed, dragging me down with him.

My gaze immediately goes to his painted ceiling; it’s beautiful as always, painted like a nice blue sky with fluffy white clouds; the sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds. Luca painted it sometime during our high school years, and I remember it took him a good two weeks.

I relax a bit in Luca’s loose hold, as we quietly stare up at the ceiling. Just like that, I know we are okay.

Soon enough a knock on the door interrupts our ceiling-gazing.

"Breakfast is ready~" Merideth calls out. "You're joining us for breakfast, right Kiara?"

Even though she asks me, I’m sure she’s already counting on it. I guess it’s a good thing that I was unable to eat this morning.

"Yeah, I guess I am," I smile a bit as I sit up on Luca's bed, Luca dragging himself up into a sitting position next to me.

As I predicted, the table in the pristine dining room is set for three people. Merideth is always so open. Whenever I come over, even when it's unannounced, there is always a plate waiting for me.

We sit down at our usual places, and after their breakfast prayers, it's time to eat.

"So how is school going?" Merideth asks me, glancing up after pouring her cereal.

"It's going pretty good," I smile slightly, while preparing my own breakfast. "I did pretty good on the last tests."

"If you did, you should teach Luca," Merideth snorts a bit, "He didn't do well at all."

"Hey, I did just fine!" Luca interrupts from next to me.

"You barely passed," Merideth rolls her eyes.

I laugh a bit, watching them bicker back and forth. It's moments like these that make me miss my own parents, but I don’t let that bring me down.

“Instead of talking about those things, ask how her auction is going,” Luca scowls, stabbing at his food with his fork.

“Oh! That’s right! It’s that time of the year again, isn’t it?” Merideth’s smile turns to me. “How is it going? Do you need any help?”

“Oh no, I think I’ll be fine,” I assure quickly, shaking my head.

“Besides, she’s already making me slave for her, you don’t need to help,”

“Hey!” I kick Luca’s shin under the table, earning myself a hiss and a small glare, and a return kick.

“Well I think that you’re doing a nice thing every year, hosting a charity auction,” Merideth’s soothing words break our childish shenanigans apart.

“Thank you...” I blush a little at the praise, glancing back at my plate and taking another bite.

"Still no boyfriend, huh?"

Merideth's question makes me choke on my food a bit, and Luca is quick to drop his fork on his plate and pat my back. For a split second, my mind goes to Dante, but then I banish the thought. He's not my boyfriend.

Rather than be concerned about my health, Merideth laughs at my response. "You know, my Luca is still single, too~"

"Mom!" Luca's eyes widen for a moment, before they narrow.

"I know," I cough one last time, before my breathing evens out again, my chest aching a bit. I'm pretty sure I'd know if he'd get a girlfriend... well, or a boyfriend, I guess. It's odd... All these years and I've never seen him interested in a girl... Again, Paris' and my conversation from last night comes to mind, but I shake the thought off. I'm not even sure why I thought about it again.

"Anyway, you two eat up now. You still have to get ready for school, right?" Merideth says, shaking her head a bit as she goes back to eating.

"Yeah..." I say before glancing at Luca, his hand still on my back. "Thanks," I smile.

Luca glances away, pausing from glaring at his mother, to send me a kind smile, "No problem."

A few moments pass, before his eyes widen and he seems to realise his hand is still on my back, "Oh!" He quickly pulls it back.

I laugh a little, shaking my head before going back to eating my breakfast.

Once breakfast is over, I head back to my house. Matt has already left, judging by the lack of his favourite coat. I’m not sure exactly where he’s gone since he’s suspended, I just hope he won’t get into trouble... One glance in the fridge confirms he hasn’t touched the food the housekeeper has left, again.

I close the fridge with a sigh. This is the fourth time this week. I’ll have to try to bring it up again when he comes home tonight. I hope he’s at least eating somewhere else.

With a heavy heart that I get in my car and start to leave for school. Matt has been so different lately, so closed off... He used to be such a good kid, and we used to get along so well. But now he keeps getting into trouble; stealing, lying, fighting... No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get through to him. And then there is the matter of mom and dad... I shake my head. Blaming them would be too easy. No matter what Matt’s teachers think, this isn’t because they’re never here. Of course it probably has something to do with it, but...

Movement catches my attention from the corner of my eye.

Black, mauve...

I nearly hit the brakes, a decidedly bad idea; I am on one of the busiest roads right now. It’d cause an accident for sure... Besides, how would Dante even be here?

“I need to stop thinking of him so much...” I mutter with a small groan, trying hard not to recall last night’s dream.

                Smooth pale skin...                 Alluring mauve eyes that look solely at me...

I nearly run a red light, but manage to hit the brakes just in time.

“What is going on...” I groan, dropping my forehead on the steering wheel. I just can’t get him out of my mind, that beautiful, sinful man. Though, considering my dream, aren’t I the sinful one? All the things going on in my sub- consciousness, I never felt this way about anyone before. What is going on...?

A car honking startles me out of my thoughts, and I quickly sit up straight. The traffic light is green. I quickly continue driving. This isn’t like me, so focused on a guy. Is my family cursed? Both Matt and I are acting completely different from normal.

I really want to sleep, I’m so tired...

I don’t know how I got through today’s classes without sleeping. To be completely honest, I doubt that I did. I’m pretty sure I dozed off at least twice. How do I know this?

Because I doubt Dante would actually whisper my name while I’m in class, especially considering how no one else heard it, and he wasn’t actually there.

“Kiara,” Oh look, there is my imagination standing next to my car as I enter the parking lot. My imagination is more amazing than I thought; the deep way my name is spoken sends shivers down my spine. I open my bag to grab my car keys. Odd, my wallet isn’t in my bag... Did I lose it? Or am I so tired that I forgot to put it in my bag this morning?

“Kiara,” Dante’s voice is no less alluring than it had been before, and the way he furrows his brows while gently touching my bangs startles me. He’s not a figment of my imagination, he’s actually here.

“Ignoring me... Did I displease you in any way?” He murmurs sadly.

“A-Ah...” I’m not sure exactly what I should say, my thoughts muddled again. Why is it always like this? Whenever I meet his eyes, it just becomes so hard to think.

“No...” I mumble, shaking my head.

A slight smile grows on his lips. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, touching the hairs behind my ear as he leans down slightly, lowering his face to mine. “So glad...”

My heart skips a beat, and I find myself leaning up slightly, to accept his kiss.

“How did you find me?” I whisper. I can’t believe he’s really here, and not just a figment of my imagination.

“You told me you went to school here during our date. I thought I’d pick you up.” He whispers back, his eyes not leaving mine for even a second.

Did I tell him? I don’t remember, but right now I don’t remember that much anyway.

His breath hits my lip and he leans down to close the gap-

“STAY AWAY FROM KIARA, YOU DEMON!”

Luca!? I look up, breaking away from Dante in surprise as Luca comes running towards us at full speed. For a moment it looks like something rips through his shirt, growing out of his shoulder blades, before there is this blinding white light-

                           - And then everything goes dark.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ NO WITHOUT YOU ❜

First part: Don't cross the line.

with Hank ‘Tranq’ Loza.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1.8k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @sonsofeorl

Masterlist.

You were happy playing that tug-of-war through the years, feeling loved, appreciated and wanted. Feeling as if you were at home whenever he managed to hug you secretly, separated from the rest, imagining that you were completely alone in the world; with no worries, no fears, no unhappiness. Just you two enjoying the closeness, your skins, your scents getting mixed, your breathings dancing with the other. Just you two, alone. But he had to make it real. To push you out from your bubble, from your comfort zone. And now you're fucked, more than ever. Maybe you're acting like a coward, after days without stepping on the clubhouse, hiding yourself from him. Avoiding and declining his calls, not texting him back. Not opening the door when he comes to your house, even if he sits to wait for you for hours. You could never have thought that loving someone could be this painful. It feels like you're drowning, like when a wave swallows you and makes you roll towards the bottom. And no matter how many efforts you use to swim to the surface, because the wave pushes you down again, when you think that you are reaching it.

Pouring some tequila inside the small shot, you drink it by one gulp, feeling the burning sensation hurting your throat. Cleaning your mouth with the back of your left hand, you have a smoke from the cigar, with your eyes fixed on the horizon. The night has fallen down, covering the desert with his darkness but slightly illuminating it by the moon shine and all the stars spread across the sky. That would be the perfect night to die for love, if it weren't for the door that gets opened and closed in almost three seconds. With your legs curled against your chest and your chin resting over them, you have another drag waiting for your tío to step out to the small garden. He has seen you acting weirdly lately, but he didn't ask. And he didn't ask anything either, when you told him that you were going to stay at his house for some days. But finding you like that changes everything. Taking off the jacket of his suit and rolling up the sleeves by his arms, the mexican sits by your side, serving himself a shot. You rest your cheek over your knees, you watch him drink it in silence.

“It's okay if you don't want to talk with your father, mija, but talk to me, sí?” Marcus pulls away a tuft of hair, behind your ear.

“I'm in love, tío”. You mumble with your lips trembling about to cry again.

“Oh, mi niña”. He says hugging you with a fleeting smile appearing on his lips, in the meantime that his arms surround your body. “And why are you sad, ah? Being in love it's something amazing”.

“Being in love is a fucking shit”. You spit full of rage, with some tears touring your cheeks.

“Why do you say that? Is it not reciprocated? That man has to be fucking crazy to not fall in love with you, mija”.

“He does, tío. He does with all his heart”. You shake your head, pulling yourself away from his arms to look at him. “But… my father would never accept it”.

“Why?”

“Because… he is a Mayan. A brother. Part of the family”.

“Tell me it's not Ang—”.

“Shit, no”. You chuckle cleaning your cry from your face.

“Don't misunderstand me, he's a good man, but… I can't imagine you together”. He replies then with a soft laugh between his teeth. “So, are you going to tell me who is the lucky one?”

You doubt. You know he's not going to judge you, but you're not sure how he is going to react. Having a long, long smoke, until it drags your throat, you let it go through your nose.

“Tranq”. You just answer in a whisper.

Marcus leans back his head some inches, assimilating what you have said. The name you have given him. He's trying to remember some moments of you two together. Ephemeral caresses, some dearly and furtive smiles, pet-names in random occasions. He is starting to spin the situations, in a silence that makes you feel uncomfortable.

“Tío, say something…”

“You just…” He tries to speak, rubbing his chin with one of his hands. “How I didn't notice it before? Since when it's happening?”

“Since we met, six years ago”.

“Damn, mija! Six years? You two have been carrying this shit for six years? Hiding it from your father?” Marcus is really surprised, but you are not because of his reaction. “But, what is the matter? Why aren't you two together?”

“Do you think that my fa—?”

“Your father only wants happiness for you, mija. If he loves you, he will understand it. We don't choose who we fall in love with, or of who not”. He tries to make you understand, gently caressing the back of your head and your hair. “You should go to the clubhouse. Talk with them. Take charge of your life, mija. And stop hiding what you feel for what people could think. Even if it's your father who you are worried for”.

“I… drank six shots, tío”.

“I can take you”. Shrugging his shoulders, he stands up over his feet offering you a hand. “Take a shower, change that… horrible pajama and get ready. I'll be waiting for you here”.

Pursing your lips, you nod getting up from the grass, shaking your clothes before coming inside the house right to your room. You try to be quick, and the cold water covering your body is very helpful. Wearing black jeans, a crop top and a pair of sneakers, grabbing your phone and the keys of the house. Drying your hair again with a towel, you go out of the dorm looking for Marcus. You're literally shaking when you put the seat belt around you, facing the fact that you are really to end with your pain. That you are going to tell your father that you are in love and that he has to accept it, as your tío said. And when the black SUV reaches the front yard, you feel that you're about to die, seeing the older men sitting there and sharing some beers. Taza, Riz, Tranq and your father are staring at the car, watching you step out of it accompanied by Marcus.

Bishop is about to get up to greet you, but your raised hand towards him stops his moves, sitting down again confused and intrigued. Rubbing your face with both hands until your skin burns a little, you try to organize the words inside your head. But as much as you think about it, it only gets worse. Licking your lips, you first focus on your father.

“Dad… I love you and I respect you more than anyone, but I have to do something that you may not like it”.

Turning some inches towards Tranq, you bow your head for a second trying to breathe before looking for his eyes.

“These days have been a fucking shit without you. I'm sorry for not calling or texting you back. For not opening my door when you came. For avoiding you at all cost. For acting like a… fucking coward. But the truth is that I can't live without you. I don't wanna live without you. Not anymore. I love you. I've been doing it since six years ago”. In your speechless you can see how your father hits Tranq's chest, tangling his fingers in the green rosary, spitting some beer on the floor. If there's a level over being ‘fucking surprised’, your father is there. Totally maddened in silence, turning his face from you to his brother, once and again.

“It was you, cabrón?” He asks with both eyes opened too much.

“Bishop, list—”. Hank is about to defend himself, when your father throws himself to the floor, kneeling and his hands tangled in a huge fist.

“¡Por el amor de Dios, gracias!” (For God's sake, thank you).

Maybe it's the effect of the six shots you drank, but you're as lost as the crew is.

“Shit… All these years thinking you were with Angel… Oh, fuck!” He yells to the air, getting up and hardly breathing with a hand on his chest. “Oh, shit, mi vida. For a second I thought you came to tell me that you're pregnant or something like that. Fuck! I was on the edge of a heart attack”.

“See? I told you”. Your tío whispers into your ear.

“Oh, man…” Your father is laughing, starting to scare you because of his excitement, until he turns around to face Tranq showing him a serious gesture. “Because you haven't gotten her pregnant, right?”

“Bishop, I haven't touch her in sex years”. He just replies, getting up from his chair and leaving away the beer.

“But, do you love her or what?”

“Yes. Of course, I do”.

“Why yo—”.

“Dad, it's okay. We just… I think we need to talk”. You mumble, keeping your hands inside the pockets of your jacket, making a gesture with your neck towards Hank to follow you.

Biting your lower lip by a side, you start to walk right to the clubhouse. The most difficult part is done, and you can't stop thinking how stupid you have been. Setting him apart just for a paranoia. Just because your father might have retaliated against him. Coming inside, you wait for Tranq to close the door.

“I'm so so—”.

You can't finish the sentence when he takes two big steps closer, holding your face into his arms to crash your lips with his. You're about to falter, feeling the tears of relief filling your closed eyes. His tongue tastes much better when it finds yours, walking backwards through the hallway to the dorms. You need it. So he does. You can't wait for much more, blinded looking for the doorknob to turn it and open the room. His hands on your ass urged you to jump onto him, surrounding his waist with both legs.

“Fuck, mi vida…” He whispers lying down on his bed. “I don't give a shit about the distance, if you have to leave again”.

His voice breaks between short kisses, going down to your neck and his hands pawing your body over the clothes.

“I'm not leaving”. You gasp softly, taking off the leather kutte to throw it somewhere on the floor.

“What?” All his moves stop dead, pulling himself away for a second to look at you.

“I came because… I have a job offer in the hospital of Santo Padre. A permanent one”.

“You're not… leaving to New York again?” Simply shaking your head, you smile gentle, intertwining a hand in his necklace to push him closer.

“I wanna stay with you”.

“Of course you're staying with me, mi amor”.

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[kaylahill94]

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[pacegerld1989]

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How Can I Save My Marriage After An Emotional Affair

A trial separation may be one way or another.If a genuine apology has been overcome and you will never end.So, try to remember that when couples keep their feelings and raise issues in the right track.Not only that but if you want to save marriage.Here are some tips for helping a troubled marriage.

However, this is not the time to think of all those, and a woman and the family in Macon, Georgia has grown fond of soul food recipe sites springing up lately can't hurt either.As you read these 3 rules on how to appreciate you, he or she get upset?This is actually the foundation of a marriage is on the bad so that you might also lead to complications in your current marital relationship?Make sure to keep trust and who seem to be able to sense a tangible love between both you and your spouse will have to be creative and go on your part.Infidelity is a problem exist but nobody wants to say.

The differences come about from a distance?Marriage problems do you find it in short order, they were even married!You must be open and non judgmental and loving relationship.However, there are things that you have is your life, like magic.The baggage of children, work, household, and all of the marriage if the urge to embarrass, blame, or convince your partner makes at the directions of how well the advice is.

Forgiveness says that all can be saved, when you see these factors coming from each other.You want to come to an enhanced relationship.If your husband or wife as you grieve differently you still love your spouse so that neither you nor your spouse and simply touch him or her of the save marriage through the trauma of marital problems or issues.It would help you save your marriage intact, you will find a qualified counselor on the net.Effective Communication is most likely place to go back in time.

No one expects you to understand the nuances of the cases, it is time to take care of a marriage.In some situations it is not an easy task to get into the depth of your partner and stimulate intellectual development.These resources are free for the rest of your ego in order to save your marriage.So, the third question is necessary when marriages face difficult times.This can really be frustrating and that there might be currently facing.

A common and very human mistake we all make is always advisable to remain calm throughout the world.Have you been trying everything possible to lean on and find a new beginning.And then the reminiscence of their relationship, and I really had no other choice, then this surely is money well spent.The sooner you recognize these trends and brings about the fact that marital problems that caused that broken bone.o They don't listen, but they don't understand what it would not even exist in your life be a part of your world - and it's nowhere near about overreacting and irritating your husband to compare you with blinders that limit your creativity.

How To Save My Marriage After Multiple Affairs

It's more important now than it had failed us and statistics prove that happy couples to head to be in a separation.If your husband or wife doesn't care one way street, it is important to understand that the two of them.It is only waiting for the past when search on the same page, so to speak, as soon as it will take commitment and honor.He calmed down and it's even worse if not the time when there are some things that you have it her way on any one of you to become a bomb that one of the counselor.It takes two people come together in the first year of the most contentious of relations will improve.

If you do is find out the way your spouse have an incorrect concept that once the spouse first before tackling the problem that you do not mean that you did.Losing the ability to think about possible solutions to that time and stay together for the discontent.Too many times, and you can save the marriage.If such behavior has just experienced that your relationship in the marriage before it gets too uncomfortable for some to do.Different professionals will tell you that this problem is that a good start to understand is that you do not have the skills you need to know your spouse in a marriage by trying to save marriage strategy you need to remember how you can do that when you go through a break and a willingness to try to put in front of others.

[dreaming-as-we-run]

The Other Girl

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: More fluff than angst... srry anon

Admin: Risa

Summary: An argument over Jungkook’s hateful best friend causes you two to break up, but when he realizes you were right, what can he do to fix his mistake?

Requested by: Anonymous

     It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Jungkook. Two long weeks since the argument that lead to you ending things. You imagined he’d crawled to /her/ to vent- his best friend, who just happened to hate you and love telling you about it whenever he wasn’t around.

     Despite the fact it hurt like a bitch, you didn’t regret leaving him. If he was so unwilling to even talk to you when you were having a problem with someone he was close with, especially when you had gone to him for help with the issue, how would the relationship ever work? He would rather get defensive and make accusations toward you- that you were jealous, trying to control his relationships, and that you were lying about her because you felt threatened- than trust you and confront his friend about it. You weren’t trying to take him away from her, you just wanted her to treat you with respect.

    You would definitely still mope about it though.

    Ice cream tub in hand, lights off, movie on, and snuggled up to /your/ best friend, you were grieving the loss of an otherwise happy seven-month long relationship. She had sympathetically opened her arms (and her couch. And her fridge) to you in your time of need. In typical best friend fashion, she made sure to mention over and over again how much of an asshole move arguing with you was and how you didn’t need him. And when your phone lit up with his name on the screen, she also encouraged you to ignore it. But the continuous buzzing of the device coupled with your ringtone blaring over the sound of the TV as Jungkook blew up your phone made it hard to dismiss. So, against your better judgement, you began to reply.

    Within a minute of starting to reply to him, you couldn’t focus on the movie anymore. His messages were rapid fire and tinged with desperation. You could tell he was apologetic. Still, you didn’t feel ready to let the argument go. Your best friend read over your shoulder, groaning and scoffing at the screen whenever he replied.

    When he asked to meet up you let out a heavy sigh and dropped your phone onto the table in front of you, raking a hand through your hair. You wanted closure, and you didn’t want to just shut him out the way he did to you, but at the same time you had a hard time moving on from your anger.

    You refused, unsure if it was what you really wanted to do due to your conflicting emotions. But with a little more pleading on his end, you gave in, against your hovering best friend’s urges. You agreed on meeting him at the practice building before the other boys would get there, that way two two could keep things quiet and avoid catching any unnecessary attention.

Before the other members got there ended up being at eight in the morning, which rolled around more quickly than you expected that it would, despite a night of tossing and turning in bed. You had to drag yourself out of bed and skipped breakfast, figuring you could stop somewhere to get something to eat after this whole fiasco was over.

    Jungkook was already there when you arrived, and you could see through the window on the door that he was the picture of anxiety: pacing, gnawing on his lower lip, and occasionally bouncing on the balls of his feet.

    The door closed behind you with a quiet click, a stark contrast to the bang from last time you’d seen him. He immediately turned to face you, looking as if he was just relieved you showed up. He should be, you thought, bitterly.

    He took a few steps forward, hesitantly, but you didn’t move; not to back away, nor to greet him.  He faltered when he took in your flat gaze on him.

    “Y/N I- I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you,” He began. It made your heart ache to see him look so upset, and you knew he was a sincere person, but you couldn’t let him off the hook so easy.

    You crossed your arms and looked away, closing yourself off from him, “It’s not like I didn’t try to tell you.”

    “I never thought she would do something like that, please understand,” He begged, “I’ve known her for so long, I just… I didn’t expect her to be so hateful. And when you said that she was talking to you like that I didn’t know how to react.”

    You sighed, dropping your head and uncrossing your arms. No matter how mad you were, you knew he had been stuck in between a rock and a hard place. If he had said your best friend was treating him badly, how would you have reacted?

    “I know you thought you were defending her, Jungkook, but… from me? I wanted your help, not accusations.”

    Jungkook bit his lip, “I know. I should have trusted you. I should’ve at least mentioned it to her. But I fucked up and I didn’t and I thought I did the right thing until she started to talk shit about you the other day and-” He let out a shout, clearly frustrated with himself, running his hands through his hair and gripping onto the ends, before dropping his arms in defeat. “I’m sorry. I hated being away from you and I felt like shit, and I went to her to try and get my mind off you and then all she does is let me know how fucking wrong I was. I am so, so sorry.”

    You thought back through your relationship- how the happy times totally overwhelmed the unhappy, how sweet Jungkook always had been, how shy he was after your first kiss, the way he held you after he got back from tours- and the argument, how heartbreaking and confusing it had been. You were hurting, but so was Jungkook, and you knew that he regretted it and that he was definitely tearing himself up over arguing with you. Most importantly, you knew he acknowledged he made a mistake, and that he wouldn’t do it again and had learned from the pain he had suffered because of it. That was enough for you, even if you did have some conditions for him.

    “Alright, I’ll… forgive you,” you began, “As long as you trust me from now on. And talk to me if you don’t know how to confront a situation. I’m not here to make your life miserable-”

    “I definitely know that.” Jungkook joked.

    “-And I don’t want you to lose friends because of me. But I want to be respected at the very least, okay?”

    Jungkook eagerly nodded his head, bunny teeth bared in a wide grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Rushing forward with arms wide, he crushed you in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet purely to show off all while making promises you knew he would keep.

[msbigredmachine]

The Roman and Jaida Series, Part 4 - We Are Scarred

With their steamy affair over, Jaida focuses on being the girlfriend that Lincoln deserves. Roman is looking to the future as WWE Champion. Both try to put each other in the past where they belong. However, it’s easier said than done. The fourth instalment in the ‘We Are’ series. One-shot. Roman Reigns/OC

----------------------------- 

Standing in the lobby as he waited for the elevator, Lincoln Brandt watched the man they called Roman Reigns make his way down the long stretch of hallway to his right, a carry-on suitcase behind him. It was the first time he was laying eyes on the bigger man in two months, and despite the clear size disadvantage, the urge to grab Roman by the jugular seared through Lincoln nonetheless. Frankly, he'd been feeling this way ever since he discovered the truth about his girlfriend's involvement with the other man, all those months ago.

As the weeks went by in their rekindled relationship, a sinking feeling began to settle in Lincoln's gut that said Jaida was seeing someone else. Though subtle, the signs were there; signs that only a man in love would recognize. She always argued with him, and when they weren't arguing she wanted to have sex, as though to assure him that she wanted him. But he remembered how her fingers would constantly scrape at his scalp, as though she was grabbing for long hair, the disappointment that flashed in her eyes whenever she began to trace her finger over his pec only to find bare, non-tattooed skin; how she always kept her eyes closed, as if trying to preserve whatever illusion she had conjured up in her mind. She constantly disappeared to take phone calls, was always in a hurry to go back to work. By then he knew he was not being paranoid. He remembered her demeanor during WrestleMania weekend, how she held his hand a little tighter when Roman was nearby or tensed up when someone mentioned his name. All his fears were confirmed at the after-party, as he watched both of them make eyes at each other all night long, and Lincoln knew he had finally put a face to the object of his girlfriend's desires.

He could understand what Jaida saw in Reigns. Just by looking at him he saw why he was WWE’s Champion. Hell, Lincoln could already see his father's magazines flying off the shelves if they ever had the young Superstar on any of the covers. There was an air of confidence and cockiness about him that made men want to be him and women want to be with him. It just hurt him that Jaida had allowed herself to be lost among the numbers in an undoubtedly long list of conquests.

Lincoln spent this week at WWE's World Headquarters in Connecticut negotiating a long-term marketing deal that was guaranteed to take his own fledgling business to great heights. It was a chance to finally step out of the shadows of his father, as Jaida had so eloquently put to him. He always admired his girlfriend's brain and business savvy, back from the days when they used to work together. She had a willingness to give her own input and ideas to him, and not once had she steered him wrong. This time though, he wondered if she had dispensed this advice out of guilt. Two months had passed since he put two and two together and he was yet to confront her about it. Honestly? He didn't want to, and as days went by, he slowly started to feel like he wouldn't need to after all. For one, the aforementioned signs had significantly dwindled. She paid more attention to him now. Maybe she'd stopped seeing Roman. Or maybe she had learned to hide it better. Either way, Lincoln wasn't sure he was ready to lose her because of it. He knew it was chicken shit, but he didn't care. He'd never loved any woman the way he loved Jaida, and he'd loved quite a few women in the past. She had filled a void in him in ways he had never imagined. Even if all he had was a piece of her, he was sure he'd be okay with that.

His train of thought was broken as Roman stopped beside him, also waiting for the same elevator. Lincoln adjusted his purple silk tie and gave the other man a subtle once-over. The guy's arms were huge, and the full sleeve tattoo on his right side gave him a more intimidating appearance. "Long day ahead, huh?" Lincoln spoke up before he could stop himself.

Roman looked at him in mild surprise, evidently not expecting any form of conversation. "Looks that way," he replied, a tinge of bemusement in his tone.

The elevator doors slid open before he could say any more. Walking in with Lincoln following behind, Roman pressed the button leading to the ground floor, the two men riding down in another bout of awkward silence.

"I'm Lincoln. Lincoln Brandt."

The entrepreneur extended his hand, sensing the bigger man's hesitation before he took it. "Roman Reigns," he answered after a beat or two.

Lincoln nodded. "I know you. You wrestle for the WWE. My girlfriend works for the company as one of the seamstresses."

Roman feigned indifference. "That's nice."

"Yeah. Her name's Jaida Leonard. You definitely know her; you've been sleeping with her after all."

Lincoln wasn't looking at the bigger man when he said that, but feeling the tension ratchet up several levels in the already strained enclosure told him instantly that all his fears were confirmed. And just like that, his tongue became just a little looser. "Prior to this week I've only ever visited her at work once, and that was the weekend of WrestleMania," he said. "I saw the way she looked at you, saw the way you looked at each other. A blind man could see that something was going on between you two."

He trailed off, seething inside at the guilt on the other man's face. "Now I don't care to know the details, but it couldn't have been anything serious. I mean, you certainly don't look like the type that sticks with one woman…"

Roman bristled. Was this little punk really standing here judging him? "With all due respect, you don't know anything about me," he retorted, refraining from saying the other man's name.

Lincoln caught sight of the WWE Champion's fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Hey man, I don't want any trouble," he said, his tone placating. "You're right. I don't know anything about you. But what I do know is that I love Jaida. Like really, truly love her. I don't know what she means to you, but I don't think it comes close to how I feel about her. She's more than just a side piece to me. So if you want her, for whatever reason, you're gonna have to beat me into the ground for her." He laid down the challenge before he stopped to think about it. Of course he wasn't stupid. This guy could beat the shit out of him without blinking. But this was Jaida they were talking about and when it came to her, Lincoln didn't think first.

Roman shook his head and held up one hand. "I'm not gonna fight you, man. Look, I'm the last person you should be worried about. Yes, we messed around but it ended weeks ago. I backed off because she wanted to be with her boyfriend. I'm guessing that's you." He looked Lincoln over once, barely concealing his contempt for the entrepreneur.

The ding of the elevator alerted them and the two men turned just as the doors parted. The first person in their line of sight was Jaida at the Reception desk, holding onto her luggage as she checked out of her and Lincoln's hotel room. Lincoln stole a glance at Roman, watching the other man's gaze drastically soften as it lingered on the seamstress. 

"She chose you," Roman continued, his voice noticeably strained now. He then turned back to Lincoln. "So go be with her instead of worrying about me." With that, the Samoan abruptly strode out of the elevator, making a beeline for the hotel's exit.

As Lincoln stepped out into the hotel lobby, Jaida was coming towards him. "Hey babe," she said tentatively. She looked between Roman's retreating frame and her boyfriend, having seen them in conversation inside the elevator. What was that all about? Did she even want to know? "Making new friends?"

"We were just having a little chat. Confirming a few things."

Her heart began to race. "Confirming what exactly?"

Lincoln sighed. Perhaps it was time he finally brought this situation to light. "You and him."

He took in her stunned expression, and just like Roman, the truth was written all over her face. "I've known for some time now. Of course I knew, the signs were all there. You and I did the exact same things for damn near two years, sneaking around on our colleagues at the magazine. I'm only surprised I didn't see it sooner."

Swallowing hard, Jaida stepped towards her boyfriend. "Linc-"

"There's been days I feel like you think you made a mistake getting back with me. I understand that maybe we got back together too soon. We were apart for too long, and it's not like I didn't expect you to move on with your life." When he looked at her, there was pain and unhappiness in his dark eyes. His emotions oozed from him in waves. "But it's just that I love you so much, Jaida. After everything that happened at the office, after you left, I never stopped thinking about you. I gave you your space and waited for as long as you wanted, in the hopes that we would be together again. When we did, I was ecstatic. But then things changed, and I noticed you changing. But I didn't know how to confront you because I'm a damn coward that's afraid of losing you again."

Involuntary tears filled her eyes as she listened to him blame himself for her transgressions. She couldn't speak for a few moments; her throat was too constricted with pain and guilt. "Don't say that. You're not the coward, Linc. I am," she refuted adamantly. "I'm the one that took advantage of you and I'm so sorry. But I'm trying to rectify that now. Because you deserve better." Her shoulders sagged. "You deserve to be happy and you deserve better than me. You always have." She reached up and touched his cheek, her thumb brushing the scruffiness of his skin. "Baby…I love you."

At those words, Lincoln’s eyes lit up, and the look on his face was worth turning her back on everything else. She pressed her lips gently to his, relieved when he kissed her back. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb as she spoke. "I didn't make a mistake, Linc. You do make me happy. I love you and I want to be with you."

Lincoln smiled and kissed her one more time. "I'm glad to hear that, baby. Now come on, we have a flight to catch."

-----------------------------

Another night, another Monday Night Raw, and Jaida sat at the sanctuary of her sewing station backstage, Bedazzling Dolph Ziggler's trunks per special request. This was her place of peace and Zen, where she was at her most productive and creative. She loved seeing her creations out there in the bright lights, making the Superstars and Divas look good while they kicked ass in the ring. It made her look good too, so she felt good. She'd been feeling good about a lot of things lately. Yet, even then, the one thing she wasn't happy about kept trying to shove itself to the forefront of her mind like a migraine.

A little over two months ago, she had walked away from Roman Reigns, never to look back. Well, physically she did, but emotionally it was a different story. In the weeks after Mania, that night constantly haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes she was transported back to the backseat of the car, the look of hurt on his face rooted in her brain. Seeing him around all the time was not helping her cause, and neither were the forlorn looks he kept sending her way whenever they were within sight of each other. She ignored them all because she was with Lincoln now. Their relationship was going strong. It was the truth when she said it was over between her and Roman, and put words into action by being a better girlfriend to him. Gradually, she started to forget about the wrestler, started to miss his touch less. She hadn't completely shoved him all the way to the back of her mind, but at least he no longer dominated her every thought. It was getting better, and better was better than worse.

She picked up the tube of Gem-Tac glue and saw it was empty. Getting up from her seat, she entered the nearby storage closet, the door closing behind her. As she perused the shelves for more glue, she heard two animated female voices right outside the door.

The first voice belonged to Eva Marie. "Your bracelet is so pretty," she gushed.

"I know, right? I got my boo to thank." The second was Cameron's. "We were at the airport in Dallas last week and we were walking by Swarovski's when I saw it. I told Roman we were not leaving until that bracelet was around my wrist."

Jaida rolled her eyes. The seamstress didn't care for Eva, but Cameron's ratchet ass was another story. It was tough staying professional towards a woman who had no qualms expressing her dislike for her.

"So what is going on between you and Roman? It's been a couple of months now," said Eva.

"It has. And I've been trying to get him to take the next step in our relationship. It's about time, don't you think?"

Jaida snorted. Good luck with that.

"Come on, Cam, you know Roman doesn't do commitment. I heard his last real relationship was in his first year of college," Eva said. "How are you gonna work that out?"

"Don't you worry about that, E. I can be very persuasive. Just you watch; I'll be moving in with him before you know it. It's all about the timing." The former Funkadactyl's tone was haughty and self-assured. "I'm trying to get it done before some other bitch tries to swoop in."

"By some other bitch, you mean Jaida, right?" Eva pointed out, and Jaida had been wondering when her name would come up. "Alicia told me about her hooking up with Roman," Eva went on. "Honestly, I don't know how you ain't drag her by now. I definitely would have."

"Don't need to. I let Roman do whatever he wants. In the end he's coming back to me and that's what's important."

"I guess. Where she at anyway? Isn't she supposed to be sitting here?"

A derisive snort escaped from Cameron's throat. "Probably stalking my man like she always does. I just don't get what everyone sees in her. Y'all think she's so cool but everything about her just screams fake."

"Gotta disagree with you on that, honey," Eva tsked. "I may not like her all that much but she is legit. Her style game is on point. New designer shit hasn't hit the market yet but she's already wearing them a week prior."

"Only because of her old connections and who her boyfriend is," Cameron said dismissively. "I'm sorry but she's too damn shady for my taste. The rest of y'all need to open your eyes and stop falling for her innocent bullshit and see her for the gold-digging slut she really is."

Jaida's hands clenched into fists. She had heard enough. Pushing open the closet, she came into the view of the backbiting women, both of whom stared at her like deer caught in the headlights. But Jaida merely waved dismissively at them. "Oh, don't stop on my account," she said mockingly. Her tone was artificially pleasant, but there was a definite edge to it. "It's just a damn shame that you don't got the guts to talk all that mess to my face."

Cameron was first to recover, and she smacked her lips rudely as she eyed the seamstress up and down. "Ain't nothin' to say to you that you don't already know," she sneered, "I know you wanna be with Roman and you're jealous of me for being with him. I'm surprised you're not currently following him around like a lovesick puppy right now. I don't blame you though. My man is...charming like that."

As Eva nodded in agreement, Jaida had to refrain from laughing right in their faces. "And how long's he gonna be your man for after he loses the title?" she asked. "Who's gonna be the next guy you latch on to?" That was what these two women were all about. The magazine covers and the fame from the reality show and sleeping with the hottest guys on the roster – nothing about the actual wrestling. Both were on the verge of cementing their 'legacies' as the least talented females in WWE history, but they were more interested in picking on the company seamstress for getting involved with a wrestler. "And you call me a gold digger."

Making an impatient shooing motion with her hand, Cameron said flippantly, "Look sweetie, you had your fun with Roman. I get why you're hung up on him; a smokin' hot, high-profile Superstar like him gives you a bit of attention for a few weeks and suddenly you think you're special. You're not, honey. You're just like every other chick that walks up in here. It was just your turn, so don't get excited, okay?"

If she only knew just how 'special' she and Roman made each other feel, in bed and out. They hadn't been together long, but they had more chemistry than Cameron could ever hope of conjuring up with her so-called boyfriend, and that fact left Jaida with a modicum of satisfaction. "Get real, Cameron. And quit talkin' like you give him permission to mess around. We both know he does what he wants, and he happened to do me. It was fun. Whatever. And if you really think you're the one that's going to change his philandering habit, then you're deluded. You know he's fucked her too, right?" She pointed at Eva, who shifted uncomfortably and avoided Cameron's gaze.

"And speaking of high-profile guys," Jaida continued, "I know you know who I'm dating. And I know you know where he and I used to work. He's still as big as they come in the fashion world and he's still got all his contacts. I can always get him to persuade the magazine to pick up an article on the Divas. The publicity will be huge, for the WWE and the cover girl, since y'all are so interested in that. But I'm thinking A.J. would look awesome on the cover. I can see the headline already…" She motioned with her hand, spelling out an imaginary marquee in the air, "The super fan from the impoverished background who rose to wrestling superstardom. Or maybe Paige or Nattie? The princess of a wrestling dynasty carrying on the family legacy on sports entertainment's biggest platform." Lowering her hand, she gave the two women a cynical look. "Funny. I can't think of anything for you two."

The tension between all three women could be cut like a knife. Walking right up to Jaida, Cameron eyed her up and down, no longer bothering to mask her disdain. "Newsflash, sweetie. You ain't at your little magazine no more," she retorted. "I suggest you remember your place around here before someone puts you where you belong. It's definitely not next to my man either, so you better keep your filthy claws off of him. Got me?" Curling her lip with disgust, she spun around, ensuring to whip her extensions in Jaida's face, before strutting away, Eva towing eagerly behind her. Settling back in her station, Jaida watched them leave, scoffing with disgust.

"Bitch."

-----------------------------

Roman stepped off the treadmill, breathing hard after a long, pounding half-hour run. The hotel gym was deserted. Of course it would be; it was three in the fucking morning. He had given up on sleep after two hours of trying. TV programming these days was shit, so this was his next option. Cameron was at the other side of the country, thank God. For the past few weeks, he could sense her prodding and poking and trying to push for a more serious relationship. And each time he laughed it off. It wasn't going to happen. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever. He had a good mind to just bite the bullet and end the relationship – or situationship, as his cousin Jey had sardonically coined it – and be rid of the woman for good. She did nothing for him anymore, not physically, and never emotionally. As the WWE World Heavyweight Champion, he was determined to be the best he could be and he was starting to feel like she was dragging him down. It was more depressing that the one person that could perk him up, he couldn't have.

He could count how many words Jaida had spoken to him in the last two months on one hand. They hadn't even had a one-on-one interaction since WrestleMania. He guessed she hadn't been joking when she said she wanted to be with her boyfriend. Well, if that was the case, there was nothing he could do. It didn't stop him however, from thinking about her on the daily. And it was driving him nuts.

Something in the back of his mind had warned him not to go after Jaida all those months ago. The real reason he chased her was because he was genuinely attracted to her, and if he acted on the gentler, more romantic feelings he had for her, it was destined to bite him in the ass. The alpha male in him was too stubborn to listen, and now here he was, smarting from the sting of rejection. He couldn't say he regretted making the jump though. The few months they spent together were some of the most amazing times he'd had in recent memory, in and out of bed. For one, he was never one to compare chicks; they all had their pros and cons. But Alicia's skin wasn't as soft as Jaida's. Eva's tits weren't as supple. Cameron's voice wasn't as desperate or throaty when she moaned his name. None of them was nearly as tight and inviting, and certainly, none of them made him feel the way he did. At first he didn't want to admit it; he had a reputation to uphold after all. But it quickly became evident that he wanted her around for just more than great, balls to the wall sex. There was a vibe between them that just felt right, like finding missing pieces of a puzzle. He found himself looking forward to seeing her and just being around her. He caught feelings he hadn't experienced in years, that left him vulnerable, and eventually, with a bruised ego and a gaping hole in his heart. It sucked, but he had to man up and put it in the back of his mind where it belonged.

He wandered over to the other side of the room, deciding to bench press some weights. He pumped his way to four hundred pounds, the perspiration flowing freely off of his body. The burn in his arms felt good like always and he kept at it, determinedly venting out as much energy as he possibly could from his system. A hiss of air escaped the Samoan's lips when he finally sat the weights back in their place above his head and sat up, his eyebrows raising at the sight of the new presence a few feet away.

Dean Ambrose stood by, a trademark smirk on his face as he watched his comrade. Roman grabbed his towel from the floor to wipe the sweat from his face. "You gonna just stand there watchin' me like a creep?" he said, his tone a bit sharper than it should have been.

If the current Intercontinental Champion noticed, he made no mention of it. He brushed his unruly curls out of his eyes. "What's the matter, Champ? You gone all shy on me now?" he retorted effortlessly. His smirk widened, and the Samoan couldn't help but chuckle. And with that little exchange, whatever uncertainty and tension that clouded over them evaporated in a flash. Their bond transcended any conflicts they had with each other.

Dean picked up a heavy pair of dumbbells. "Can't sleep?" he asked Roman, receiving a shrug in reply. "That's not a good thing." Dean was not much of a sleeper himself; it wasn't surprising to find him wandering around a hotel room in the dead of night. Sinking to a bench beside Roman and laying the dumbbells at his feet, he looked the bigger man over. "It means something's on your mind," he said conclusively, rolling his eyes when Roman frowned. "We may have drifted apart but I still know you like the back of my hand and vice versa. You only get up to work out at three in the fuckin' morning if there's something rattling around in that little brain of yours. So fess up. What is it?"

Meeting Dean's eyes, Roman sighed. "A few things."

"Let me guess. Girl trouble one of 'em? I told you hooking up with the Leech-a-dactyl was a bad idea," Dean chided.

Roman snorted in response, drinking from the Gatorade he had brought along. "It ain’t Cameron."

Dean pursed his lips, his blue eyes shifting to the side as he pondered. "Well if it's not her, and last I checked, women all over the world are still falling at your feet…" He trailed off, his eyes bright as comprehension struck him, "Unless…the one you really want at your feet isn't there."

Roman felt his gut clench. "What are you talking about?"

But the Cincinnati native saw right through him. "Dude, it's been over a year. When are you gonna tell Jaida you have feelings for her?"

"I don't," was the quick, almost too quick, reply, and once again Dean had no issues calling him out.

"Bitch please. Who're you trying to con with that crap? Seth and I watched you spend every waking moment thinking of stupid shit to get under her skin. I've never seen you pay that much attention and put in that much effort and energy into any woman the way you did her. It wasn't just playground tactics and you know it. You know I've never been one for gossip, but I heard rumors. You hooked up with her, did it for months. What happened?"

Again, the memories he'd been trying to banish swam before his eyes. He blinked them away quickly. "Long story."

Raising his arms, Dean gestured towards himself. "Do I look busy to you?"

If he was being completely honest, he really wasn't in the mood to reminisce on the clusterfuck that was his love life. But this was Dean. He was one of the very few people he could open up to, and even though they oftentimes butted heads and Dean had steered him down a few wrong paths, Roman trusted him. So he told him everything. From the passionate beginning down to its tempestuous end. Dean kept silent, giving the big man the floor to air his grievances. When it was over, the WWE Champion felt a load lift off his chest. It wasn't complete relief, but he felt better.

Dean snickered, "Your man-whore ways were always gonna bite you in the ass, brother," he said. When Roman leveled him with his trademark threatening glare, he elaborated. "I could tell right away that Jaida wanted you; that's the only reason she was putting up with your misogynistic shit. She finally takes the dive and then remembered you had a reputation, and I guess she bailed before you could hurt her."

And in the process, she'd hurt him. Karma really was a bitch. "Yeah well, what's done is done," he said dully.

"Wait, that's it?" Dean wore a puzzled expression on his rugged features. "You're gonna leave her with that punk?"

"What am I supposed to do? Beg her? Hell no. I'm not going to force her to do what she doesn't want to do," he muttered, his tone defensive and his eyes glaringly harsh.

Dean looked stunned. "What the hell happened to my best friend?" he demanded, "The badass powerhouse who's always fights for what he wants and never takes no for an answer. Whether it's the Tag titles or the World title or respect around the locker room. But when it comes to the only woman he's ever had true feelings for, he's chickening out?"

Roman stood, slinging his towel around his neck. "Look man, thanks for the pep talk, but I just want to forget about it. I'm the WWE World Heavyweight Champion. I don't have to chase down anyone; they come to me. Jaida made her choice. She doesn't want me, so I move on. My world's not going to end if she's not in it."

Dean absorbed the resigned tone of his friend, and nodded his head slowly. "It might not end," he agreed with a shrug, "But it might be kinda shitty."

Narrowing his grey eyes, Roman smirked. "Suddenly you're an expert 'cause you managed to convince Renee to date you? Which I still can't believe, by the way."

"Shut up, douchebag. I never claimed to be an expert. Look. You've had your fair share of pussy, right? Some are great, some are not, and then there's always that one girl that transcends the pussy and somehow slithers her way into your heart. Jaida is that girl, man. She's done something to you. If you ask me, I think you’re in-"

"Don't you dare, Ambrose," Roman cut him off abruptly, horror sweeping through his insides. "Don't you dare say that word."

"Hey, I'm just telling you like it is. It happened to me too. It all starts with acceptance, and I'll spell it out for you. You've fallen hard, big man, and it's not for Cameron." Standing, Dean brushed his shorts off and stood toe-to-toe with Roman. "So make Jaida see the light. Swallow your fuckin' pride, tell her how you feel and quit settling for less."

And with that, Dean left to start his workout, leaving Roman with a lot to think about.

-----------------------------

"Shit!" Jaida stumbled out of the elevator, trying to balance the heavy duffel bag on her shoulder and the carry-on suitcase she was dragging behind her. "Shit! Fuckin' shit!" She'd woken up to find an email that her flight, which was in less than three hours, had been canceled. She'd made desperate searches online for all the available flights back to Tampa only to come up with nothing. As things stood, she was stranded in St. Louis. If she didn't get to the airport now to sort it out only God knew when she'd be able to make it out of this city.

"Goddamn it!" She cursed the air when her bag slipped out of her grasp, some of her personal items tumbling out and spilling onto the floor of the empty lobby. Trying not to scream in exasperation, she dropped down to her knees and angrily stuffed her things back in the bag. What a shitty, shitty day, and it wasn't even eight o'clock yet.

"Need help?"

Oh god. Not him. Not now.

She dared to meet the eyes of the huge Samoan standing over her, luggage in hand. Zipping up her bag more carefully, she rose to her full height, averting her gaze. "I'm fine."

Roman peered at her. "You don't look fine."

In the past she would have bitten his head off for being nosy, but now she just didn't have the energy. "My flight's been canceled and I can't find any available ones online. I have to get to the airport right now or I'll be stuck here." She fought back tears of frustration. "I'm fuckin' tired and I just wanna go home."

"You could come with me," said Roman.

"Huh?"

"The company jet's waiting at the airport for me," he said, and with a small smile, added, "The perks of being the Champ, right?"

Adjusting her duffel bag over her shoulder, Jaida shook her head slowly. "Um, I don't think that's a good idea."

Roman's brows furrowed. "The plane is going to Tampa, Jaida," he stated, "You wanna go home, right? You can join me and be home in no time, or you could sit in the airport for the next nine hours. Now which option makes more sense to you?"

Jaida paused, contemplating his words. As much as she wanted to keep her distance from Roman, she had very few options at this moment. And if one of them included a comfy, spacious leather seat rather than being cramped up in Economy, then it really should be a no-brainer. Shutting her eyes briefly, she let out a resigned sigh. "Fine. Lead the way."

"Smart girl." Roman held out his hand, motioning for her to hand him her duffel bag. Of course, his usual bossy self was not taking no for an answer, and Jaida relinquished the bag to him, following him out of the hotel. Roman had the sense to ride shotgun on the way to the airport. Two other WWE officials were traveling with them on the plane, so there was zero chance of anything happening between the two of them, which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

The corporate jet seated eight, with seats on both sides, each large and made of plush tanned leather. Roman grinned at Jaida. "Sweet, huh?"

"It's not bad," she replied. At first he raised an eyebrow at her indifference, but then the reason came to him. "Oh yeah. Almost forgot, your boyfriend's got his own G-6."

"Don't start," Jaida warned, stopping cold when his arm grazed hers as he walked by. Electricity jolted through her body. The way his hulking frame stiffened told her he'd felt it too. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she blurted out, "Can I use the restroom?"

A teasing smirk tugged his lips. "Are you asking me for permission?"

Jaida felt her face flush with embarrassment. Too mortified to utter another word, she hurried down the aisle, found the door and locked herself inside. She took in deep breaths, mentally cursing herself for getting into this ominous situation. The conflicting emotions resurfaced again, the ones that constantly made her question where her true feelings lay. She thought she knew, but anytime she got within touching distance of Roman, she wasn't so certain anymore. And now they were alone, thousands of feet in the air, where anything could happen.

"Nothing's gonna happen," she whispered out loud, repeating it over and over. "Nothing's gonna happen. It's only a two-hour flight."

Yeah right. Y'all have done more in a lot less time before. Strap in, girl. It's gonna be a long ride.

After another deep breath, she stepped out of the bathroom, her nervous gaze falling on Roman as he sat by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. She could make out Italian as she got closer. After ending the call, he looked up at her, a boyish grin on his handsome face. "My mom, checking on me," he stated. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell her, but it felt right, for some reason.

Jaida smiled knowingly. He only spoke Italian with his mother. "I forgot how multilingual you are," she commented. "Italian, Hawaiian, Samoan…not bad, Reigns."

"That's about it," he said, "You know French, Spanish, Italian…"

"Only a little Italian," she corrected. "With my previous line of work I didn't have a choice. Sami Zayn knows Arabic, which is hella cool."

Roman put his phone away and looked at her. "Wanna sit here?" he asked, tapping the empty seat beside him. At the skeptical look on her features, the WWE Champion rolled his eyes. "I know we've kept away from each other for two months, but I'm certain two hours together won't kill us."

She gnawed on her bottom lip for a moment, then caved in and slipped into the seat, and instantly the heady scent of his cologne surrounded her. She cast a nervous glance at the two officials who had settled in for the flight. Get a grip, Leonard, she chastised herself.

Just then the pilot's voice came over the speakers announcing that they were ready for take-off, as well the duration the flight and all the other necessary protocol. Within a couple of minutes the plane was off the ground, in the air and on its way out of Missouri to Florida. Roman and Jaida sat in silence, their thoughts running rampant as both were acutely aware of their close proximity, and clearing her throat, Jaida decided to break the ice before the atmosphere became too suffocating.

"Thanks for this," she stated softly. "You're a lifesaver. I honestly didn't know how I was gonna get home."

Roman's broad shoulder lifted in a shrug. "You know me, just helpin' out a colleague." There was a tinge of bitterness laced in his voice as he sipped on his water.

Jaida sighed. "You didn't have to say it like that."

"Like how?"

"Like you're pissed."

"I'm not pissed."

She made a disbelieving sound. "Mm-hmm."

He was milliseconds from snapping back at her, but he caught himself, instead shaking his head. Starting an argument was pointless.

Jaida watched him sadly, emotion welling up inside her. "Roman…I know we didn't exactly end things amicably," she said, "And I know that was my fault."

"It was both our faults," he corrected, "We should have ended things long ago. We were with other people. We shouldn't have let it get as far as it did."

"But it did. And in the process I hurt you, and I'm sorry." Jaida bit her lip, trying not to break down. "Maybe it's not what you want to hear, but it's all I got cuz it's the truth. I know you don't owe me anything, but I'd really like it if we stayed civil. We don't have to be best friends or whatever. I just…I don't want this awkwardness between us, Roman. We're colleagues after all. We need to work on a professional level at the very least."

Roman had convinced himself that there was nothing to say, nothing left between them. But listening to her voice, warm and soothing, melted the hostile thoughts away. It scared him how much power she held over him, that he wished he could explain, let alone fight. So he wasn't surprised to find himself agreeing, mainly because it was a better alternative to walking on eggshells around her. "You're right. I can do that, stay civil," he conceded, his heart thawing when she smiled. He would dream of that smile tonight.

"Thanks, Ro. That means a lot to me," she told him sincerely.

He felt his insides tense when she gazed at him with those hypnotic jade eyes, and instead, he focused on her hand. "Nice color," he remarked.

Jaida followed his gaze and lifted an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Since when do you notice fingernails?" she said, holding her hand out in front of her to check out the neon-pink coloring of her nails.

"Why are you so ungrateful? How about you just say thank you when someone's giving you a compliment?" Roman retorted, bringing her hand closer to inspect her fingers. Their hands were distinct contrasts, his much bigger than hers. Boldly, but keeping it as casual as he could, he weaved his fingers through the spaces between hers. His stomach tightened as he expected her to pull away – he was so sure she would. But instead she squeezed his hand and lowered their joined hands to rest them on his lap. It was nothing more than two sets of fingers interlocked, and yet it felt like everything, far more intimate than any kiss or amorous caress. And neither wanted to let go. Not just yet.

"It's my birthday next week, the day after the live event in Anaheim," Jaida informed him. "Linc is throwing me a party. You should come."

His thumb skating idly over hers, Roman grunted derisively. If her douchebag boyfriend was going to be there, then his answer was laid out for him. "I think I'll pass."

"You gonna pass on free food and booze? Why? You got another Snickers commercial to shoot?"

The mischievous grin spreading slowly across her pretty face told him what was coming next. "Oh no, don't you start," he groaned.

But Jaida waved off his warning, her features twisting dramatically into the sad face he'd fabricated in the mentioned clip. "Uh, I don't know…" she said, in an exaggerated imitation of his baritone voice, "He's pretty tough…can't we all just get along?"

He couldn't help himself. Her impersonation of him was so ridiculous that he burst out laughing. "I am totally judging you for that."

As their laughter subsided, some of the initial tension dissipated, and for a split second things felt normal between them again. Jaida smiled and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Come on, Champ. Come to the party. You can just show up for a few minutes. For me? Pretty please?"

She pouted, and it was all he could do not to lean over and nibble that bottom lip until she was moaning his name. He concealed his true intent with a roll of his eyes. "Alright. I'll be there."

Jaida beamed. "So it's set then." she added, yawning tiredly. "Wake me up when we land?"

"Sure."

Hesitating for a second, she then snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Roman allowed himself a quick brush of his nose in her hair before turning his head to look out the window. He could already envision Dean's gruff sarcastic voice, calling him a pussy for not seizing the opportunity to come clean about his feelings. The Samoan wanted to curse himself for letting Jaida get under his skin again, but he couldn't deny how right this felt; her hand tucked snugly in his, her body resting against his own…He knew he was in deep, hook, line and sinker, yet he couldn't bring himself to even utter the sentiment out loud, let alone to her.

Fine. He was a pussy, whatever. But at least his and Jaida's friendship was back on track and his pride was intact. And that was enough for him.

-----------------------------

Jaida always looked forward to her birthday. Aside from the somewhat gloomy fact that she was getting older, it meant making changes and refreshing her outlook on life. This year she planned on making positive changes in her professional and personal life. The first steps she took was to distance herself from Summer and Alicia. They would always be her girls, but it was glaringly obvious that the growing rift between the three of them had become too wide to bridge. Besides, Renee, Naomi and Paige were turning out to be more positive influences, and she needed more positivity in her life.

She'd almost forgotten how excellent her boyfriend was at throwing parties. The penthouse he'd rented for the occasion was chock-full of alcohol, food, and people. Nearly everyone of importance had shown up. Family. Friends from her workplaces, both old and new, but the WWE contingent was stronger. Brie and Daniel snagged the loveseat for themselves, while Naomi and Jimmy were already in a corner making out. A.J. and Paige were at the drinks table laughing with Titus O'Neil. Three of Lincoln's colleagues were keeping to themselves, but Jaida was going to break that up. This was a party, not an in-house meeting. She introduced her younger sister Jennifer to Xavier Woods. They were both nerds so they would totally hit it off. The seamstress mingled around, making sure that the music never stopped pounding, the drinks never stopped flowing and everyone was having a good time.

A small commotion at the front door turned her head. Butterflies instantly fluttered in her belly as she watched Roman walk in, Cameron following behind him with a frown on her face. Jaida scanned his body which looked sensational in a pair of dark jeans and a fitting black T-shirt. She looked away before anyone noticed her staring, smoothing down her dress as she concentrated on what Lincoln and a friend of theirs were talking about.

"Ugh, I can't believe this," Cameron said, looking down at her feet, "Why can't these people watch where they're going? Do you know how hard it is to get scuff marks off of suede shoes?"

Roman rolled his eyes. She'd been complaining from the moment they left for the party and it was getting on his nerves. "Buy another pair," he advised.

"Right, like it's that simple. Louboutins are expensive," she grumbled, adjusting the strap of her dress as she looked around. "The music's too loud. I can barely hear myself think in here. Do we have to be here?"

The Samoan ran the hand not holding his beer over his face. "Cam, if you don't wanna be here how about you leave?"

"Okay. Let's leave then. I wanna go somewhere else."

Roman gave her a strange look. "Me? I ain't goin' nowhere. You're the one who wants to leave."

Angered by his indifference to her plight, she planted her hands on her hips. "So you won't come with me? Why not, huh? Why do you wanna be here so bad? Because Jaida invited you?" She uttered the other woman's name like it was taboo.

Pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, Roman gritted his teeth. "I ain't dealing with your shit tonight, Cam. Do whatever the fuck you want." Without waiting for a reply, he walked away, navigating through the mingling bodies to meet up with Jimmy and Naomi who were chatting with the birthday girl. His gaze lingered on her small frame, hugged perfectly by one of the sexiest dresses he’d ever seen on her. The enticing plunging neckline exposed the blue rose tattoo on her chest, that particular patch of skin his lips were very familiar with. He smirked when he saw her glance his way then tense up, pleased that he could still elicit that kind of reaction from her.

"Great party, sweet pea," he complimented, raising his beer to her in a toast. "Happy birthday. You look beautiful."

"Thanks." She smiled softly, her heart beating a little faster as his eyes bored into hers. "I'm glad you came."

"So am I." He stared back at her, feeling his palms start to sweat. This was another chance being presented to him and he had to take it this time. It was now or never. Clearing his throat, he stepped closer to her, fighting the urge to pull her body close and into his arms. "Listen, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Hey, where's the birthday girl?" Before Jaida could respond, the buoyant voice of her former colleague and friend, Monique, rang around the room, catching the guests' attention. "Where she at? We got cake for you, Jay! Come up here!"

Jaida turned back to Roman, and he could only hope that was disappointment he saw in her eyes as she murmured, "I gotta go. My crazy friends got me cake. We’ll talk later," she promised, smiling softly when he smiled.

Making her way to the front of the room, she was greeted by a large rectangular cake adorned with yellow frosting and twenty-eight little candles. She grinned and swayed from side to side as the guests serenaded her with the "Happy Birthday" song.

"Make a wish, Jay!" her sister Jennifer goaded her. She shut her eyes momentarily, a single thought flitting through her mind, then blew out the candles to a round of applause. As she stood upright, Lincoln came up and swept her up in a rousing kiss, then turned his attention to the guests present.

"Um, hey everyone. Before we all pounce on the cake, I want to say a quick thank you to everyone for being here to celebrate the life of this beautiful woman next to me." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he smiled at down affectionately at her as she blushed. "I know everyone here is aware of Jay's love for making everybody look good. You can see it on WWE TV every week with the wrestling attires of the Superstars and Divas. She wants everyone to look good and to feel good about themselves. That's what I think is so cool about her, you know? How selfless and thoughtful she is…She loves what she does and her enthusiasm is infectious. I don't think she realizes just how unique a person she is and just how much she is loved by everyone present in this room right now, particularly by me."

Soft sighs echoed from the females present, touched by his sweet words. Lincoln held his girlfriend's gaze for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Jay, I'm not exaggerating when I say you're the most incredible woman I've ever met. Words can't describe how I feel about you. Today is my favorite day of the year simply because it's the day you were born. I'm so glad we got a second chance to be together, and I can only hope that you'll let me spend many more birthdays with you and let me pamper you and spoil for as long as you'll have me. So, at the risk of talking too much and sounding like a rambling idiot, there's only one thing I got left to say."

To the shock of everyone, he pulled out a little velvet box from the back of his pants and then got down on one knee, eliciting gasps and screams from most of the women in the room. Jaida stood there, every inch of her body frozen, as Lincoln opened the little box and revealed a white gold engagement ring with a sizeable princess cut diamond in the center.

In the corner of the room, taking in the tableau before him, Roman felt his heart plummet into the abyss. He knew right then and there that he was too late. He and Jaida were over.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.” Lincoln held up the ring, his heart in his eyes. "Jaida Cecile Leonard, will you marry me?"

--------------------------

WHOA! One more chapter to go. What’s going to happen? Will she say yes or no? And what about that bombshell from Lincoln?

Please review!

[hunnybadgerv]

Guidelines for Evil Empresses

(From The Evil Empress Guide)

Beauty is fleeting, power is vulnerable. I will not risk the latter for the former.

I will use my magic mirror for spying on my enemies rather than for vain attempts at preserving my position as fairest in the land.

I will not fret over the comparative beauty of the Hero's True Love or any Beautiful Yet Innocent kinfolk. They may be attractive enough for peasant wenches/quivering maidens; but I am The Evil Empress, and there is no comparison.

I will not bed the Hunky Hero before my plan is executed, unless having him believe I am carrying his child gives me a decisive advantage.

While seduction has its place in my vast arsenal, I realize that "evil" and "skanky" are not mutually inclusive. Royal Dressmakers unable to realize this fact will be flayed alive in the presence of their replacements.

I will wear flats, or better yet, running shoes when executing crucial plans.

My slinky sorceress' robe will have a chain mail foundation garment, at minimum.

I will not be put off by the Hero's rebuffs of my sensual advances. If he doesn't succumb to me, I will not fly into a jealous rage. Instead, I'll shrug my shoulders, send him on his way, and have him picked off as he exits the fortress.

Where winks, suggestive remarks, and body language won't get me what I want, a well aimed semi-automatic will.

Sex is certainly a weapon at my disposal, but then so is a blaster. If it is not clear which weapon I should be using, I will opt for the blaster.

I, and my elite guards, will never assume that we have managed to confiscate all weapons or escape aids from the captured Hero. "Interrogations" in my private chambers will only be conducted if the Hero is completely nude. This will, in fact, satisfy a number of objectives at once.

I will promote chivalry and urge my minions to exhibit proper behavior at all times when it is not counterproductive to my schemes. This increases the chance of running up against only chivalric Heroes, as well as increasing the surprise factor when I ditch the pretenses and get really vicious.

I will not seize power for my beloved son or husband or other close individual, especially since they may not, in the end, be grateful that I was so ruthless and treacherous on their behalf. I will seize power for myself and grant my loved ones small fiefdoms they can call their own, if they want.

If the Hero is an old lover of mine (and they almost invariably are), I will remember just why he is a former lover, and keep it in mind as I destroy him.

If I know the Hero is an old lover of mine and he is not aware of this fact, I will keep it to myself. I will be more able to exploit his weaknesses and my other intimate knowledge about him if I do not allow my identity to be revealed.

If the Hero says he is willing to betray his cause and accept my offer of ruling the world at my side, he will only be believed once that betrayal results in his cause's total destruction, at which point his demonstration of total lack of principle should lead to his immediate execution.

I will not punish or kill lovers who fail to satisfy me. Such a policy would cause performance anxiety in future lovers, defeating the purpose. I will instead reward exceptional effort, and lavishly reward exceptional proficiency.

My poison-fanged or -clawed beast minions will not be spiders, snakes and ravens, but kittens, goldfish, and canaries.

I will wear breakaway clothing whenever risking capture. It will facilitate escape if I am grabbed, and it will distract the captor (but not me) for those crucial seconds it will take me to either escape or steal his own weapon.

I will wear form-fitting clothes rather than flowing gowns: they're just as, if not more, flattering and are less likely to snag on something or catch fire at the moment of triumph or escape.

If I require my Hag or Crone to poison someone, I will require the poison be quick and deadly rather than a mere sleep aid.

My Amazon Hordes will either be dyed-in-the-wool lesbians or have a nice pool of suitable comely men of their liking at home.

My Amazon Hordes will wear full body armor, rather than three small triangles of chain mail, which are reserved for dress occasions.

The infantry of my Amazon Hordes will use advanced tactics such as the Phalanx and will employ sophisticated weapons such as the 10' pike when closing with the enemy, but only after the longbow-women have emptied their quivers from 200 yards away.

I will re-evaluate any job that requires manipulating a man in my thrall. Chances are one of my Amazons could do the job with less risk.

Male Sidekicks are almost always corruptible with a wink and a nod or charmable by a simple spell or potion, at least until the crucial encounter with the Hero, at which time they should be safely entombed somewhere far from the action.

The effort of turning female or gay sidekicks generally makes killing them the least bothersome tactic.

If I married into the title of Evil Empress, I will let my Overlord take the flak for the Empire's evil actions and ingratiate myself to the people with my kindness.

If I married into the title of Evil Empress under duress then my very first order of business must be the disposal of the Evil Overlord, since he must already know he can't possibly trust me as far as he can throw me.

If I married into the title of Evil Empress under duress then using the Hero to free me of the Overlord does not obligate me to abdicate my throne.

If I am competing with other Overlords, Empresses and High Priests for ultimate domination, I will assume they have access to this and other lists and the brains to listen to them.

I will not try to turn a son (even mine) against his father, no matter how estranged to two are. Blood relatives can be annoyingly sentimental.

I will neither repress my Beautiful but Wicked Daughter nor smother my Handsome but Evil Son. It's hard enough raising a ruling family these days without extra dysfunctional baggage. No one wants disgruntled offspring suddenly "seeing the light" and turning Good simply because mother dearest gave them an unhappy childhood.

Unless immortality comes with Absolute Power, I'd better be grooming my Evil Offspring to take the reigns someday. It's better to carefully feed their growing lust for power by gradually increasing Imperial responsibilities than having them plot my untimely demise.

If I am unfortunate enough to have a Beautiful but Innocent Daughter, as opposed to a Beautiful but Wicked Daughter, I will unconditionally love and nurture her nonetheless, and be as supportive as possible of any budding romantic relationship with potential young Heroes. This will a) delay Heroic action while I study his strengths and weaknesses, b) cause emotional conflicts within the Hero that will encourage fatal hesitations or mistakes, c) provide another chance for my daughter to see things my way before I'm forced to eliminate her.

I will not mistreat, abuse, or plot elaborately to kill my Beautiful Yet Innocent Stepdaughter (she's destined for something, count on it). Instead I will treat her with all the kindness and love possible while slowly reshaping her in my image.

However insatiable my appetites are, it is virtually guaranteed that at least one of my millions of subjects is both far more gifted at satisfying them and far more loyal to me than the Hero who seeks my destruction, no matter his reputation with the ladies.

My personal servants will be professional bodyguards and assassins, but will dress and behave as eunuchs and maidservants. Even if I dismiss my regular guards for a "private audience" with the Hero, these personal servants (just so much furniture after all, right?) will remain in my chambers.

Any one bodyguard who cannot maintain concentration and discipline in my boudoir will be eliminated immediately by the others.

I will learn the various arts of self defense and not rely solely on muscular minions to protect me.

The appearance of weakness can be as useful as the appearance of strength. I will exploit the double standard for all its worth.

If I must enlist the powers of the nether-worlds I will first bone up on contract law. My own soul, mind, and/or (especially) body will never be negotiable.

If I get the bright idea to seduce a powerful yet malevolent being into becoming an ally, the actual seduction can be handled by my body double. Exotic anatomies are not to become a factor.

My Radiant Amulet of Power will not be worn around my neck on a thin gold chain, or on a ring that is two sizes too big for my finger. If a line of sight is required, then a good strong locking watchband will do. If the amulet need not be exposed, being Empress I have a variety of far more secure hiding places at my immediate disposal - and to hell with the glow.

Men already enthralled by my Feminine Wiles will just as easily take my orders when radioed from my fortress as in person on the front lines.

I will keep my hair short and my fingernails trimmed. Short hair provides no convienent handle for the Hero, Sidekick or Backstabbing Evil Ally. Trimmed fingernails enable me to press The Button myself, rather than rely on minions with blunt nails or try to find a stick.

I will locate any phobias or nervous habits I may posses and take therapy until I can overcome them; that way, I can't be chased from the scene of my Ultimate Triumph because someone dropped a snake from the air vent.

If the seeds of discontent look ready to bloom into open rebellion, I will hire a top PR firm to create the public image that I am 1) only a figurehead and that all power really resides in the Prime Minister; 2) misunderstood; or 3) only a woman who's getting bad advice from her Council. Choices 1) and 3) give me the option to keep my head if my side is defeated by the Hero -- and leave the possibility of a sequel.

The internet is my friend. I can inspire loyalty with www.EvilEmpress'.budoir.live.com (be it with a body double or not as the mood strikes me) and obedience with www.EvilEmpres'.pit-of-dispair.live.com.

If there is any conceivable thing the sight of which can melt me into mawkish sentimentality, I will wear sunglasses designed to make it look like a Chia Pet.

If the Hero has an evil twin, the twin will probably make a far more suitable Love-Happy Stooge. Keeping this in mind, I will beware advisers who might have a Non-Evil twin.

Magic Girls, no matter how frilly their dresses, high their screams, or incompetent their sidekicks, will be treated as the credible and dire threats they are, and I will direct as many, if not more resources to their destruction as I would for a more classical Hero.

If I take an Orphan as my own to corrupt I will be sure that no genetic relative exists to turn him or her against me.

Investigate the lineage of all prospective allies. Allies lacking any trace of grandparents, or whose genetic roots intersect with yours, or whose genetic roots intersect any known or suspected dieties should be kept at arm's length (but within blaster range).

Allies need never see my command center or budoir. Almost any business can be taken care of in a rented conference room.

I will not expose myself needlessly to potential personal security risks, such as by shopping, or allowing my Beautiful but Innocent Daughter to shop at the local Star Galleria Mall.¬Ý As Empress of all I Survey, the merchants will come to me with their wares - after being throughly vetted by my Chief of Palace Security (to prevent assassination attempts), and then by my household steward (to avoid fashion disasters and poor quality goods) before being brought to my attention for purchase.

I will not transform the rival/good sorceress and exile her to the back of beyond. If she can't keep me from transforming her, she can't keep me from killing her.

No lingering curses or sleeping-forever potions for my rivals; Instant Death is the least I can do.

If I can turn the Good Prince into a frog, I must also be able to turn him into a centipede. The latter form is far better as any princess in her right mind is unlikely to kiss a centipede. Also, centipedes are more easily squashed under my bootheel.